


Diary of a Mad Gamer Chick

by Zoop (zoop526)



Series: The Pwn Heard Round the World of Warcraft [1]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Cross-Factional Shenanigans, Diary/Journal, F/M, Humor, Interracial Relationship, Naughty Behavior, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2017-12-07 13:35:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 235
Words: 136,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoop526/pseuds/Zoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diary of a woman from our world who gets sucked into the World of Warcraft, literally. She's reached her peak and she's got a hot new body - Garrosh, hide your warriors! Rated for adult situations and language. Mostly cathartic brain fluff, and subject to/victim of the Patented Zoop Scenario Randomizer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1, I guess

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This may have started out with a purpose in mind, but now it's more of a series of cathartic exercises to divert me from the serious, the angsty, the painful, etc. in my other fics. So don't expect philosophical insights or life lessons - except that sometimes, women can be just as unapologetically wanton as men, and it's often funnier not to see the forest for the trees. :)
> 
> I do play World of Warcraft, and I do play Horde almost exclusively, but of course I have played Alliance [ew]. Some of the folks our narrator meets along the way are characters on my account, like a certain bad-ass Tauren hunter you may run across occasionally if you hang out on Blackhand.
> 
> So if you like fluffy distractions, I hope you enjoy these drabbles of weirdness from the fertile (so to speak) mind of Zoop. I'm in this one for laughs, because few of my fics let you do that. Well, not continuously, anyway. :D
> 
> UPDATE: Oh, how the plans and schemes of the mighty go all wonky when they're not looking... Things in this fic ended up going into serious-land along with the general upheaval within the Horde. Fluff sort of takes a runner somewhere along the line, and our trusty reporter will adjust accordingly. Prepare yourself. Eventually, things are going to change...

I'm totally not a diary-writer or anything, so this is going to suck big time. It was so weird, though, I had to start writing things down, just to keep my sanity. Or get it back. I don't know.

Yesterday I woke up in Stormwind City. Since this is probably never going to make it back home, let me just point out that, from my perspective, Stormwind City _doesn't exist_. Okay, it _sort of_ exists, in a digital way. It's in a game I was playing. I fell asleep at the computer, and all of a sudden, it wasn't a game anymore. I was actually _in Stormwind City_. Like, rubbing elbows with dwarves and gnomes and draenei, oh my.

Here's the thing: I don't know much of anything about Stormwind. Yeah, I've been playing the game for years, but I never played any of the Alliance races. About the only times I've ever been in Stormwind were for holiday achievements and to earn that fabulous bear mount for axing the king.

Okay, take a deep breath. When I opened my eyes, I was on this bridge with three big-ass statues. I figured out pretty quick that I was at the entrance to the city. I'm not _that_ much of a n00b, for crying out loud. Some people were heading in, some heading out. Some gnome clanked past me on one of their mechanical bird mounts. I just stood there looking retarded for several minutes, I think, until I finally started walking.

God dammit, what a wake-up call that was. I thought it was annoying in game. Think of Stormwind with _real people_ in it. It's like a medieval city, complete with shit-covered streets, beggars on every corner, pick-pocketing ragamuffins, trigger-happy guards, snooty nobility holding kerchiefs over their noses against the stench, vermin of all kinds scuttling around (including gnomes)... I actually longed for the game version. And yet _still_ the streets were crowded to the max with adventurers of all races (Alliance races, anyway), crafting, buying, selling, jostling for attention, bragging, and offering their services.

I decided it didn't matter _how_ I managed it, I was getting the frik out of that city. Of course, I had no idea how to go about it. Oh, right, laugh it up. I could just turn my ass around and _walk out_. Sure. Heads up, people, _no weapons_. Even if I had any, I wouldn't know what to do with them. Even _guns_ would have been a challenge.

So what does a classless n00b do to earn a bit of coin in a strange city? What do you think? I went door-to-door, talking to people, and got a few odd jobs. Thankfully, none involved running outside the city to kill anyone.

That's been my day today. I've gotten really good with the layout of the city, where to find the banks, the stockade, and the castle. I actually have a bank vault. _In_ _my name_. Every copper I earned today went straight in. I swear, I was seeing Artful Dodgers all over the place.

My recollection of Stormwind isn't great, but I don't think it was quite this big in the game. I'm sitting in some combination orchard and graveyard that I'm pretty sure wasn't there last time I joined a raid to off the miraculously respawning king. Must be a post-Cataclysm addition. Great. Explains the bipedal dogs with impeccable dress sense I've also seen galloping awkwardly on all fours. I thought that looked ridiculous in the game; even worse in real life. I personally wouldn't go running around with my ass in the air, but hey, I'm human. Like, totally 100% human with no feral canine tendencies.

Oh, did I mention? It's almost like I got ported into the game straight out of my chair. Except that, heh, I now have the body of one of the svelte, perfectly-proportioned human women you see in character creation. Not the pear-shaped, thirty-something woman I was on the other side of the screen. I could get to like this place.


	2. Second Day and It's Freaking Raining

Oh my god. I think we covered the wretched hive of scum and villainy that is Stormwind in yesterday's musings. Now imagine it _wet_. My refuge today is the cathedral, and I swear if I hear one more hymn to the Light, I'm going medieval on someone's ass.

But small ray of sunshine. I delivered some apparently really important crap for some knee-biter gnome, and he gave me a pretty hefty reward. Amazing how much they'll pay someone to put something on the top shelf for them. So I withdrew my funds and hit the shops. Now I'm the proud owner of a small axe that probably won't put a dent in a wheel of cheese, and a gun with a rusty trigger. Happy days.

I gave some thought today about what to do with myself, long term. The only way I know how to deal with Azeroth is getting out there and interacting with it, but since I came here only knowing what people in a normal, boring, adventure-free world would know, I was at a loss for hours. Eventually, though, I decided to channel my inner gamer chick, put on my big girl pants, and do what I would have done if I was rolling a new character in the game.

I decided to be a hunter. Because... most of my characters are hunters. And I like cuddly animal companions. And I was feeling way sorry for myself. You know the human hunters get a _wolf_ as their first pet? It's like having a slightly pissier dog. She's a big sweetie, though. When she's not ripping the throats out of small animals. Anyway, I named her Zugzug. It gives me warm, fuzzy feelings to call her loud enough for some Alliance dweeb to hear. They get all nervous and start looking around for the orc. Hilarious!

So no roaming the streets today. It's just me and Zugzug, getting acquainted and annoying the crap out of the priests. Good grief, there's an orphanage not fifty yards from this place; you'd think they'd have kids playing hide and seek up and down the halls all the time. But then, I suppose the kids are less likely to piss on the floor. I hope nobody sees that... Bad dog.


	3. Day 3 and I Hate the Alliance

I was _this close_ to shouting 'For the Horde!' in the middle of a crowd today. Someone with a cruel sense of humor thought it would be great to have me take a bag of goodies to the inn out Goldshire way, as if I had nothing else better to do. Which... I suppose I didn't, but that's beside the point.

Okay, we've established that I don't play Alliance. However, it would take a blind retard not to notice the bizarre Alliance dork-magnet with its epicenter in that little hamlet. I've flown over it several times doing Explorer stuff. I'm surprised I never got hit by the duel flags dropping out of the sky. As disgustingly overcrowded with 14-year-old dweebs as it's always been in game, multiply that by at least a generous fifty in real life. _And_ there's no pass-through. Oh yeah. I had to actually look out where I was going, and try not to knock people over.

I was the only one being even remotely polite, too. Back in my world, I never had to trouble myself about guys. I didn't have a model's figure, so most of the time, I skated under the radar. If you're built like a brick house, and you roam around a testosterone-packed inn that's shoulder-to-shoulder, your butt gets _so_ sore.

It was about then I decided I _really_ hate humans. These people stink like ass, are rude as hell, and act like they're only a tiny thread away from discarding their civilized outward appearance and descending to the level of beasts. All around me, they were shouting to each other across the tavern, boasting loudly about various conquests, only some of which seemed to involve fighting, fondling the beleaguered barmaids as they struggled to serve drinks... It was disgusting. I pushed my way out, again feeling many hands on my bum and boobs in transit. It was lucky for them I left Zugzug outside.

One tiny bit of luck, though. Just outside of this god forsaken hole, some carnies are setting up for the Darkmoon Faire. I'm stoked, really. It blows chunks in the game, but since everything else around here has been on steroids, maybe it'll be more fun. I'll find out tomorrow. For the time being, I'm in a room upstairs in the Goldshire inn – god knows what the hell it's called – with the door locked and a chair wedged under the knob. Ain't taking chances.


	4. Day 4, uh, 5 and I'm SOOO Wasted

Good grief, where do I begin? I've missed _two days_. That faire is out of this world! All right, not really. It's the same collection of bizarro junk I've always ho-hummed my way through. But let me tell you about Rinling.

Okay, I think it's pretty obvious I've got a preference for the Horde. The DF was my first chance to see any of them since I got here, so I was just all a-quiver with anticipation. I favor the tauren race when rolling characters, but seeing one up close and personal, I just about crapped. They are HUGE. I didn't even want to strike up a conversation, I was that floored. Naturally, I avoided the Forsaken dude. Once you've done the Wrathgate thing, reclaimed the Undercity, seen what a totally twisted bitch Sylvanus turns into, you pretty much wash your hands of the undead.

So it was essentially the lesser of three evils to chat up the troll. He was wild-looking, savage, bestial, and incredibly, incredibly sexy. Before I even got a word out, I was already blushing fiercely. His long tusks curved out almost a foot in front of his face. I didn't even want to think how difficult kissing him would be. But of course, I did, and my face heated up even more. How embarrassing.

He totally said it, just like in the game.

Rinling: Whatchoo want, mon?

Me: [suppressing squee] Um... tickets.

Rinling: [grins] Ah, yeah, mon, I got tickets. But you gotta give tuh get; ain' nothin' free.

I swear, the look on his face, though I'd never really seen a troll close up and certainly not ever seen subtleties of expression in game, made me think he was coming on to me. His red eyes flicking down my body and back up to my face pretty much confirmed it. So of course I played up to him.

Chuckling in what I hoped was a throaty, seductive manner, I settled into the game.

Me: What would you like me to give you?

Rinling: Ah don' wan' much, mon. Jus' summuh yuh... leetle toys.

I placed my hands on the counter and leaned forward, using my biceps to push my breasts forward. Thank god for cleavage; this troll got an eyeful. His brow arched slightly as his eyes dropped down to take in the view.

Me: [sexy voice] I've got lots of...toys. You need to be more specific. [lick lips]

Rinling: [hard swallow] Jus' copper mod'uhlatuhs, since dis be yuh fuhst veesit.

Me: What makes you think this is my... first time?

Rinling: Nevuh see yuh befoh, mon. Ah tink ah'd remembuh yuh.

Me: Oh, I'm sure you have them eating out of your hand in every town. [boldly stroke tusk]

Rinling: ['whoa' look] We ain' allowed. It ain' like yuh ain' temptin', doh. Duh gnome whut runs dis ting would have me jools if I fucked yuh.

Me: [surprised look] Well, isn't he the party pooper? Since when do you give a shit what a runty little moron says?

Rinling: [chuckles] Ah, yuh be givin' me reasons not tuh care, dat's fuh sure.

Me: [reasonable] Tell you what. I know you've got a wagon around here somewhere. I've got some copper and stuff. I'll go back to town and whip you up some copper modulators. If you're still in your booth, I'll assume you're interested. And not in the mods.

I threw another sultry grin at him, accompanied by a wink, then turned and left.

My stomach did flip flops all the way to the blacksmith's shop. I had to really get a hold of myself; there was every chance that he'd scamper off to avoid the wrath of the short.

Assessing my supplies, I set to work on crafting the modulators. About when I settled on being a hunter, I picked engineering as a profession probably because the trainers were right there in the Dwarven District with the hunter trainers, and it turned out to be endless fun.

Once I had a handful of modulators, I headed back to the Faire. It was dark by then, but torches were lit, so I could see my troll's booth was empty. I was really disappointed, and was about to leave when I heard a faint hiss. I looked back, and there he was, peeking out from behind a curtain and beckoning me into the booth. Damn near frantically, his eyes darting around. I slipped behind the counter and followed him through the curtain, over boxes full of various contraptions, into a gypsy-style wagon out back.

I learned two things that night with him. One, trolls know exactly how to keep from killing their lovers with their tusks. Two, the body I got when I came to Azeroth wasn't as experienced as I was. Evidently, this was the first time for it, and he was clearly humbled that he had taken something so precious from a complete stranger. Maybe it was his reaction more than anything that compelled me to leave the copper mods on the bed and scoot before he woke from his post-coital nap.

Oh, one other thing I learned from that experience. Troll men are fan-fucking-tastic in bed. I think I actually _did_ yell 'For the Horde!' at some point.

So I didn't spend the _whole_ night with Rinling, as I later learned his name was. After ditching him, I went back to the faire and had an extremely fun time of it. I wandered around, taking in the menagerie, chatting up the silly gnome with his disturbing lust for animal parts. I always thought it was weird; blood, paws, and feathers? Come on, dude. That's some serious kink you got going on there. Sampled various brews and weird foods. I swear I don't know how I found Goldshire last night, let alone the damned inn. I went back to the faire this afternoon when I'd slept off the alcohol, and had a really bizarre talk with this necklace and gee-gaw bedecked gnoll thingy named Sayge. I answered a few of his questions, then he handed me a little strip of parchment. He told me to read it out loud.

Me: 'You will find happiness with a new love.' [grin] Well, who knew? I thought it was just a tumble.

Sayge: [shakes head] [bling rattles] No, pretty lady, you was just fucking ol' Rinling. There still be love coming to you.

Me: [worried] Uh, right. Look, you won't tell the, uh, short guy about him and me, will you?

Sayge: [grin] No, lady, we keep our secrets. You ain't the first, surely won't be the last, that's tasted all the Faire has to offer. We all got our... secrets. You got a big one inside you.

The first thing to spring to mind was that the troll had gotten me pregnant. That was completely unfair. But before I could ask the gnoll if that were the case, he was gone. Like, _poof_ , kind of gone. Spooky.

So I'm back in my room nursing the world's biggest hangover _still_. I don't know what the hell they put in the beer around here, but it's seriously nasty shit.


	5. Day 6 – Dear God, Who RUNS This Place?

Not in the best of moods this morning, let me tell you. To begin with, they're still not letting me bring Zugzug into my room, even though they let just about everything with a pulse hang out down in the common room. Good grief, there's a worgen woman and draenei man in the room next to mine, humping each other _day and night_. Thank god alcohol is a depressant, or I never would have gotten any sleep last night.

Hey, my wolf's a girl, too. I honestly don't see the difference. Not even in the housebroken department.

Well, come to find out, I'm not 'savvy' enough to do any of the dorky tasks the military guys stalking the streets have on their dockets, so I was sent to Northshire Abbey by the first one I talked to. What the hell? I'm not _good enough_ for Goldshire now?

I probably scared off any potential thieves on my way here this morning, I was so pissed. Then, get this, the first thing the guy makes me do is kill _wolves_. Hello? Are we not seeing what's sitting beside me here? Worse than that, I was a city girl; the toughest animal I'd ever encountered was a feral cat! To which my solution was, call animal control. I'd never taken the life of _anything_ , save maybe a mouse or something, and even then I used traps. Actually pulling a trigger, or gods forbid, swinging this semi-threatening axe, and killing something... Enough to make you vomit just thinking about it.

So I asked the obvious question:

Me: Can't I just, you know, shoot up a training dummy and we pretend I killed wolves?

Dude: [snippy] Ma'am, we are under siege by the Blackrock orcs and their foul beasts. We are the last line of defense here. If we do not hold them back, they'll swarm into Elwynn Forest, and may even get as far as Goldshire. Do you want that?

Me: [lie] Uh, no, I guess not. But...uh...I haven't even shot this gun yet, so I'm going to practice for a bit...over there. Okay?

He sort of grunted in response and nodded curtly. I hustled out of his presence. In my opinion, a good ass-kicking by berserked orcs would do Goldshire a world of good.

I had to collect my thoughts. I'd never, in real life, done any of the vicious things my toons did. I'd never even shot a gun. Now all of a sudden I had to shoot or be shot, kill or be killed. And I was on the opposite side of the fence from my comfort zone. _AND_ I wasn't likely to switch factions anytime soon.

Shouldering the gun, I took a shot at the training dummy before realizing that I hadn't loaded it. I had to laugh; whatever twisted reality this was, it was evidently susceptible to patches and expansion packs. Ammo was no longer used in-game, and sure enough, seconds after firing, the gun was ready to go again. Convenient.

It took awhile to get comfortable with the gun's action, and Zugzug's instinctive dash to the dummy to rip it a new one on my behalf. As I had found to be the case in the game, friendly fire wasn't an issue. The bullets seemed to pass through my wolf without harm.

After I got to the point where I hit the target more than I missed it, I returned to the soldier and reported for duty. He pointed me in the direction of the wolves. Feet dragging all the way, I headed into the forest.

I'm not even going into the details of that first kill. About all I remember is the bullet thunking into the side of a black-furred wolf-like beast, which only seemed to piss it off. It came at me, and my wolf met it halfway, snarling and growling. The two of them clashed, and I unloaded another couple of slugs before the wolf collapsed. Blood was everywhere. I was promptly sick. And I swear I heard a gruff chuckle behind one of the trees. Those rumored orc spies, no doubt.

That tore it, pretty much. I yanked out tufts of fur from different parts of the wolf's body to make it look like they came from different ones. Once I had about half a dozen, I turned them in. The marshal guy kind of looked a little uncertain, but gave me the benefit of the doubt. And a spiffy pair of leather boots. I no sooner had my sigh of relief well cleared when he dropped bombshell number two on me.

Dude: You may have noticed the orc spies in the forest while you were taking care of the wolf problem. The armorer can outfit you with leather leggings if you see to it that those spies do not report what they have seen.

I came close to laughing in his face. First he plies me with shoes, now it's pants? What'll he have me do for a helmet? Kill the Warchief? Admittedly, my equipment was basic, or sucky, depending on your point of view. But apparently clothes were the going rate for turning someone into a killing machine around here.

Me: What, uh, 'trophy' should I bring back as proof of my deed?

Dude: [snotty 'tude] I'm sure they carry coin, though I doubt they are paid well.

At least he didn't want fingers or something icky. I promised him I'd thoroughly rifle their pockets, then headed back out.

Oh, man. I did _not_ want to start what was looking to be a miserable existence in Alliance-held territory with a killing spree. It wasn't even like these spies were particularly good at being sneaky, either. I mean, come on. They were doing the _sneak_ _walk_ , but otherwise I could see them moving around clear as day. The only thing missing was the big ol' target on their chests, because this looked for all the world like a duck-shoot at a carnival. Except you don't get a fluffy bear for bagging your quota. You get pants.

Snickering, I approached a tree where a female orc was 'lurking' and leaned against it. She ignored me pointedly for several seconds before finally sighing and looking up.

Me: Hey, listen, that humorless hulk at the abbey wants me to kill a bunch of you, but I'm totally not into that. It may be your thing, but it isn't mine. So how about you give me a couple of coppers to make it look like I killed you and looted your body, and we call it a day, huh?

She looked at me like I had two heads and they both looked retarded.

Oddly enough, my ploy worked, though. She handed over the coppers, and even brought me to several other orcs who thought the whole thing was a joke but forked over a couple coppers each just to humor me. We reminisced about how awesome Orgrim Doomhammer was, they shared stories of growing up in Blackrock Mountain, and we all ripped on that fancy-pants king in Stormwind. A good time was had by all. The only things we lacked were s'mores and a campfire.

Richer by one pair of pants, I decided to pack it in for the night. More bunking down in a church of the Light. At least there wasn't a goat man and wolf girl doing the nasty in the bunk next to mine. AND they let Zugzug sleep next to my cot. She really is a big sweetie.


	6. And On the 7th Day, I Became a Goblin

It occurred to me this morning as I dragged my extremely reluctant ass out of bed, that I must be in the new player area. That would explain why the orcs and wolves didn't make mincemeat of me. Well, I'm sure the wolf would have, but only after I popped a cap in its ass.

Anyway, the marshal had a new joyful task for me this morning: kill off some goblin assassins. Ugh. What a challenge _that_ was going to be. Imagine trying to talk a few coppers out of a _goblin_.

Well, there was only one way to approach this: appeal to their nobler side. [cough, cough] Assuming they had one. I mean, we're talking goblins here. And goblin _assassins_ , at that. Making sure the Alliance guys weren't watching, I sidled up to the nearest sneaky-walking, completely unstealthed goblin and cleared my throat. He gave me a filthy look, full of pointy little teeth, and fingered the dagger at his waist.

Goblin: Whaddaya want, pinky?

Me: Uh, _pinky_? You didn't just call me 'pinky,' did you? Big-nose?

Goblin: [trying for intimidating - not working] I ain't got time for your conversation, girlie.

Me: [sarcasm] Of course you don't. There'd be no _profit_ in it, would there? Listen, the stuffed shirts want me to snuff a few of you guys out.

Goblin: Uh, thanks for the warning?

Me: [chuckle] No, nothing like that. I'm not really good at this whole 'slaughtering the Horde' thing they're trying to make me do. I'm more about keeping myself from being dead.

Goblin: So...this concerns me _how_? Exactly?

Me: [embarrassed] I'd rather not kill members of the Horde, you see. But I have to show _them_ something to prove I've killed someone so I get my reward. Like... a couple of coppers or a piece of linen, a scrap of uniform, _something_ , you know?

Goblin: Let me get this straight. You're some kinda bleedin' heart sympathizer, and you don't want them to think you are, so you can get your pay for killin' things you ain't killed. Is that about right?

Me: [pause to think] That about covers it, yeah.

Goblin: [grins] Girl, you got the makin's of a goblin.

He fished in his pockets and pulled out a few coppers. He hollered for 'the boys,' and several goblins came out of 'hiding' to converge on our position. My new buddy chattered to them in what I presumed was orcish, and before I knew it, I had a handful of coppers to fool the marshal with. Again, we had a good time ragging on the Alliance.

Back at headquarters, the marshal guy told me to collect some weapons, but wait, I could only get them from the orcs carrying them. Apparently, finding a crateful wasn't good enough. Great.

It only took one orc pulling a weapon and rushing me to realize I wasn't in the n00b area anymore, and it was show time. Trying desperately not to pee down my own leg, I dropped my weapon and held up my hands in surrender. I think he must have taken pity on me, or was frankly flummoxed by the high level of cowardice in front of him, because he stopped charging and just sort of stared at me.

Me: [chipper] Hi! I'm what you might call... a wimp. Yeah, I think that covers it. Um... Here's the thing. There's this... guy. He's got a hankering for weapons that don't belong to him, and guess what? I'm the 'lucky' gal who gets to fetch them. So... you got any broken knives or anything taking up space you wanna get rid of?

I could be mistaken, since orc faces are a little hard to read, but I _think_ he looked at me like I was retarded. For some odd reason, that seems to be the default response I get from these guys.

Orc: [growls] Is this some kind of joke?

Me: [quivering over sexy voice] Oh, honey, you don't know the half of it. I'm totally serious. Here. Weapons going down. [drop weapons] That's all I have. Feel free to frisk me, if you like. [wink]

Orc: [eyes wolf warily]

Me: [grins] Don't worry about Zugzug, she's a sweetie.

His eyebrows rose at the name I gave my wolf. A sort of half smile somehow found its way around those awesome tusks. He _totally_ felt me up. I swear, I don't think there was any chance in hell I might have concealed a weapon in the places he was thoroughly investigating. Things were looking up.

But apparently he was 'on duty,' and banging hunters in the vineyard counted as the same prohibited act as drinking on the job. Disappointing, but he gave me a worn-looking dagger and called over a bunch of others to have a go.

I'm not gonna lie, getting groped by half a dozen orcs was a _little_ unsettling, even if they somehow managed to keep it in their pants. One or two wouldn't have been out of the question, but six? Please. I'm not a whore. Anyway, I bagged my quota in more ways than one, traded a few stories, shared some insults at the king's expense, and happily trotted back to Marshal McBoring with his presents.

Guess what the douchebag wants me to do _now_? Go kill the _leader_ of the Blackrock orcs. Heavens to Murgatroid! I think I need a lie down. I'll go mess with Kurtok the Slayer [shudder] in the morning. After breakfast. And maybe a shot of penicillin, because I _know_ a simple fondle isn't getting me out of _this_ one.


	7. I Don't EVEN Know What Fricking Day It Is

You are NOT going to believe this crap. I've been _arrested_. I'm sitting in the friggin' _stockade_. In the middle of Cesspool City. My cellmate is a thief or something who _claims_ to be wrongly imprisoned, but since she keeps looking at me like my fashionable boots won't be mine much longer, I have my doubts.

I guess I'll have to bring you up to speed. Where the heck did I leave off? Oh yeah, Kurtok the Slayer. Why did nobody tell me he was a redhead? I have absolutely no control when a redhead walks into a room. I sort of "paid" for an audience with his Slayerness by getting reacquainted with my orc buddy from the day before, then...

Whoa. I don't even remember what we talked about, but I think it's been a week, so that's probably why. Or it's because talking wasn't required. Ladies reading this, if you ever find yourself in a compromising position with an orc, rear-entry is your way to go. I had to use liberal amounts of horse linament on those pulled groin muscles after the first day. They have very thick torsos, my friends. You won't be going missionary very often, if you know what's good for you.

And it was good. Oh my god. I have not spent so much time naked and sweaty since... crap, I think I've set my own record. There will be _no_ topping this anytime soon. I may not have killed him like Marshall McDumbass wanted me to do, but I certainly halted any further advancements for several days.

It's times like these that I reflect on what I've done, and I pinpoint mistakes that may have led to my current predicament. For example, when leaving the smoldering vineyard slightly bowlegged and disheveled, maybe waving in a friendly manner at some of the orcs in full view of Northshire Abbey wasn't a good idea. Perhaps slapping an insignia bearing Kurtok's mark into Marshall McAssWipe's hand while sporting a shit-eating grin and several teeth-marks clearly not made in the thick of battle _might_ have shown poor judgment. It _could_ have been the flippant way I answered the marshall's question, "Were you successful killing Kurtok the Slayer?" with a rather cheeky "I brought him to his knees, I assure you of that!"

King Wrynn's men have _no_ sense of humor. _And_ they confiscated the first part of my diary. The guards snicker every time they pass my cell door. I am officially in hell now. With any luck, some Horde member will decide to go for the dungeon achievement and bust me out of here. Hear that, Horde? Willing to pay _any price_ to get out of this place!


	8. Starting Over With Day 1

What with all the mayhem and wild humping of the last couple of weeks, I've lost track of how long I've been here, so I'm just starting the count over again. Today's day 1. And so it begins... again.

My roommate got marched down the aisle first thing in the morning, but I don't think any bouquets were flying. Looked more like a gallows party. Or maybe they actually took her to trial. I have no idea. Across the corridor, I can just make out another cell. If I squint really hard, I can see one of the other prisoners, pacing _constantly_. Big monster of a tauren, male _I think_. It's not well lit around here, so I'm having to guess. He sometimes roars at his guards in some weird language, and they roar right back, mostly saying things like 'shut the hell up' and 'I'll carve you into steaks.' I feel sorry as hell for the guy.

I have a very nice bucket in the corner for my own personal use. Isn't that snazzy? No TP or anything, just a bucket. I'm about tempted to ask for a hymnal from the cathedral.

There's a guard here who keeps giving me the eye. I'm pretty sure he's read my diary; it's like the thing's in the communal bathroom here, and everyone's had a peek. Apparently, he thinks if I'll do the deed with a troll, there won't be much stopping _him_ from getting a little somethin' somethin'. I beg to fucking differ. I thought the humans in Goldshire were stanky. No comparison to guards in the stockade. At least the dorks in Goldshire have prospects, and wash themselves accordingly. These guys don't even have _that_ incentive.

Too bad there's something like fifty yards separating me from that tauren. I'm guessing he's got friends on the outside, and he's waiting on them to bust him out. Otherwise, I suspect he'd be sitting around in a miserable heap. That's what _I'm_ doing. I don't particularly want to be brought before the king, thank you very much. I wish I could remember what I've written about him. It'll probably come up in conversation. I don't think it was anything particularly nice.

I haven't wanted to think about it, but I'm really worried about Zugzug. When I got picked up, she went bonkers and they had to beat on her a bit. I don't think she's dead, but I don't know what they did with her, either. If I have the ability to summon her, nobody's told me about it. Of course, my first trainer was a dwarf, and I probably wasn't listening to her too carefully.

Hey, tauren, if your friends show up, I hope they won't mind a tag-along. I could use a little hand here.


	9. Round 2, Fight!

Where do I begin? I'm sitting in the tavern in Booty Bay, waiting on the ship to Ratchett. How did I get here? You wouldn't believe it.

Last night, that tauren across the way got busted out by his girlfriend. I was dozing off and on, when all of a sudden, the place erupted in mayhem. It was like Armageddon coming down the hall. Guns blazing, great gouts of fire blowing past, guards screaming like little girls as they ran for cover... _Very_ impressive.

All of a sudden, a huge two-headed... good gods, it was a _core hound_. A real, honest-to-gods _core hound_. How many times did it take me to tame the Beast in Upper Blackrock Spire, back before the _Tame Beast_ spell shortened to a more reasonable cast length and the Beast got nerfed? How many times did my hunters get blown into the rafters by that monster's knockback, or interrupted, battered, cooked, and eaten? I almost came; I swear to the gods of all worlds, I damn near did.

Then this hulking tauren came stomping into sight, checking each cell for the other one. When she stuck her horned head into the little vestibule outside my cell, I waved wildly at her.

"Hey, if you're getting that tauren out, can you take me with you?" I shouted. She looked startled for a second, and froze. "I'm in here for fraternizing, not doing anything particularly wrong. Can you help me out?"

I didn't even try guessing her expression; if orcs are hard to read, cow faces are worse. She aimed her rifle at me. I thought I was dead, and hit the deck, but her shot nearly blew the iron door apart.

"Betray us, and you die," she bellowed, then turned to check the room across the hall. I didn't waste time, and ran across the corridor to join them. She did the same there; I swear, that cell door had a hole the size of a mammoth in it from her freaking _huge_ gun. Good thing, too, because her boyfriend was about as big. He lumbered out, and they embraced briefly, foreheads touching. It was actually quite sweet. Then it was all business as they made their way out.

I followed rather timidly. The core hound was two or three times bigger than me, I swear, and shuffled along on its stubby legs ahead of us. The floor vibrated from the seismic thuds of each step that glorious beast took. I nearly had a second orgasm before we ever got out of the cell block.

Compared to the two tauren, I felt like a four-year-old tagging along with the high school kids. I didn't have anything to offer in the way of clearing a path for our escape, either. That hunter had a gun as big as me, and between her and her pet, the guards were getting mowed down if they were stupid enough to try and stop her. Then there was the former prisoner. He revealed his shamanity really fast by casting a stunning chain lightning spell at the reinforcements coming up behind us. It was a shockingly powerful spell, pardon the pun, and fried about half a dozen guards.

I pretty much stayed between them, cowering in the hunter's wake and letting the shaman occasionally push me along. Before I knew it, we were coming out of the stockade into the bright sunshine.

I almost crapped. There were a mess of guards in front of us. But if there's one thing you have to give tauren, it's grace under pressure. Both of them summoned _dragon_ mounts. Now, I had assumed here in this weird version of the game that mounts would have to be stabled like horses in our world. Not so. They both assumed a casting position, then _bazinga_ , two dragons appeared out of nowhere. The female climbed aboard hers and gave me a hand up. The male got on his own, then we were off, pretty much launching straight up into the sky.

My sigh of relief was choked off when a _legion_ of pissy flying guards converged on us. But apparently the cows had uber master riding or something, because they wheeled off southward, and left King Wrynn's finest in the dust. Figuratively speaking, of course.

To say I laughed hysterically all the way out of Elwynn Forest would be an understatement.

I calmed down when I started seeing jungle below us, and wondered if they were aiming for Grom'gol. That might have been their initial plan, but with me along for the ride, a few hand gestures shared between them conveyed the change of plans. On to Booty Bay we went.

From the air, that gigantic pit with a whirlpool in it is way more terrifying than in the game. I almost got air _and_ sea sick. It felt like hours after the jailbreak before we finally touched down on the boardwalk in Booty Bay. I couldn't really talk to the big tauren lady with the wind whipping around us so much. Once we were down, though, I nearly knelt at her... hooves and bowed. I was _so_ not worthy.

Me: [sincere] Honestly, I can't thank you enough. I don't even want to contemplate what they were going to do to me in there.

Tauren: [curious] Why were you imprisoned?

Me: [smirk] Well, it wasn't for killing anyone, that's for sure. Just the opposite, really...

You know, there's something about tauren that make it... kind of difficult to give details of a ribald nature. I found myself sort of fumbling a bit, and couldn't really tell her the events leading up to my arrest, particularly the part about Kurtok. I pretty much conveyed the idea with a lot of head jerks, brow twitches, half smiles, vague gestures, and liberal doses of 'you know'. She probably got the gist a lot earlier than I thought she would, but once you're on a roll with all that strange behavior, it just sort of has to work its way to its own conclusion. Anyway, I _think_ she smiled. She certainly laughed in a deep-voiced, throaty way. Her boyfriend shook his head and grunted a bit. Laughing, I think. Hard to tell.

Anyway, turns out their names are Kuadanath and Brahmunatou. He was in the slammer for daring to be within smelling distance of Stormwind. Neither one of them seemed like liars, and given my own experiences with the total absence of humor out there, I could well believe it.

But guess what? They're amused enough by me to travel at least out to Ratchett together. From there, I guess I'll have to see where the fun takes me.

Oh, it turns out I _can_ summon my pet. Zugzug's back, and none the worse for wear. Ku (as I've started calling her) taught me the spell I needed to summon her. If she can teach me some more stuff, it'll make the ocean voyage a whole lot more tolerable. The dockmaster told me the boat ride takes almost a week, if the weather cooperates. A _week!_ And I thought my computer was slow...


	10. Day 3 and I'm on a Boat

The ship bound for Ratchett docked last night and got unloaded _loudly_ well into the morning. Ku and Brahm dragged my cranky butt out to the pier as the dockhands were loading it up again, and I stood there shivering in the morning chill. I can tell already that we're gonna have to have a 'come to Jesus' meeting about this early morning shit before too long.

Pets dismissed into the Nether or where ever it is they go, we boarded and found our berths. Okay, we laid claim to hammocks that didn't look ready to come off the bulkhead. Brahm is a big bull; he needs the reinforced kind. Not many folks making the voyage with us, just a Draenei man and Worgen woman who look oddly familiar. I feel like I should know them, but I can't place them. Weird. It's not like I know a hell of a lot of people here.

We lost sight of land sometime in the afternoon, and I lost my lunch shortly thereafter. I've been swinging nauseatingly in my hammock ever since. I don't think I'll ever walk again, much less keep anything like food down.

In fact, I think I'm going to lean over the rail and feed the fish some tasty chum. Be back later.


	11. Familiar Territory on Day 4

Holy gods, I figured out where I'd seen the Draenei and Worgen. Back in Goldshire, for crying out loud. It's the Mad Humpers. They're _following_ me! And _still_ humping! I almost dumped a bucket of water on them last night. _Right next to my hammock_ , god dammit. Get a fucking room!

Well, you know me, I'm not one to accept lemons without making lemonade. And that lemonade is named Fentulk. Now that is one deckhand who can swab my deck _any_ time. Even on a neutral ship, discretion is required, so we had a little afternoon delight in one of the storage lockers below decks. Unlike Kurtok, he is rather quiet, like he doesn't want the whole damn ship to know what's going on. Kurtok, by comparison, was a screamer. I think it was a point of pride for him to make sure all his troops knew he was gettin' some.

There I go again, thinking about that dreamy redhead. What did I tell you? No control. Well, Fentulk has black hair, and his tusks are bigger. Between the two orcs, I have to say that bigger tusks means bigger you-know-what. I wonder if the same holds true for trolls. Rinling sure as hell had some impressive tusks, and I had _no_ complaints about what he was packing. I think I now have a research assignment. Three males doesn't make for a very conclusive sampling. Nope. Gonna have to broaden the field. The things I do for science.

Ku isn't quite sure what to make of me, oddly enough. When I stopped hurling like a hung over teen after her first bender, we had a nice chat. She's been with Brahm for a couple of years, and they were on their way to Orgrimmar by way of the Grom'gol zeppelin when they got separated along the border of Elwynn and Duskwood.

I'm _pretty_ sure she and Brahm are having some quality time alone since they disappeared a couple of hours ago, and it's not that big a ship. One can't just stuff a male Tauren in a closet. But _two_ Tauren with a hankering for each other... _that_ is, apparently, doable. Now if only that sex-starved Draen-orgen monster would do the same. Hey, I know we're all adults here, but come on.


	12. Day...Uh...7? I'm Gonna Barf

Oh my god, I had to force myself to write tonight. My back and hips are killing me, and it's not because Fentulk is such a vigorous lover. According to the captain, we're passing the Maelstrom, and the sea is choppy as all hell. The only place I can be where I'm not fighting to stay on my feet is my hammock, and that's where everyone else has gone, too. So I'm nauseous and praying for death, Ku is up on deck fishing for some bizarre reason, Brahm is snoring like a jet engine because apparently it'll take more than the end of the world to wake _his_ ass up, the Draen-orgen is once again engaged...

You know what? If they're going to fuck like animals five feet away from me, I'm going to watch. Sorry. There's no internet porn around here. And these two are _hilarious_. Get this, he talks _dirty_ to her. Can you imagine? Every time he calls her a 'naughty bitch' I just about ROFL. If I had my cell phone, I'd be shooting some YouTube vids. It's so funny, it doesn't even get me remotely hot. But here's an interesting tidbit - sometimes when she's about to come, she switches forms. And no, not to a worgen. She's in her dog form for the lead-up, and yeah, they do it doggie style most of the time. Every time she does that, it _pisses him off_. Oh yeah! He swears like a sailor, slaps her ass, tells her to switch back. The man knows what he likes.

Speaking of which, I guess I was wrong. I wonder where Fentulk is? I've got a hatch he can batten down.


	13. Ten Days Out, and Land Ho!

Oh. My. God. It is _hot_ in the Barrens! We debarked late last night in Ratchett, and the farther you get from the shore, the more you wish you were naked. My clothes are soaked. My armor is so stinky, I don't even want to be in the same room with it. Ku insists I'll get used to it. Like hell, I will. Not if I have to go around smelling like the guards from the Stockade.

The inn is like a barracks, too. No rooms, just a load of beds all lined up in haphazard order. Just like in game. Oy. Needless to say, my tormenters the Draen-orgen have already claimed the bunk next to mine. Someone, somewhere, hates me, and has assigned this couple as my punishment for... something. I'm beginning to think the only place I can go where they can't possibly follow is Orgimmar itself, but it'll probably turn out they're with the Cenarion Circle and can visit in a diplomatic capacity. I'm hosed, if that's the case.

Now, I have ranged across the Boring Barrens since back when it was one big monstrous, arid plainsland, before Deathwing came poncing in and tore it in two, and I have to say it's a hundred times worse when you can actually _feel_ the heat. It ain't no dry heat, Hudson.

Being a midwestern gal, I'm familiar with hot and humid. I have known summers where you felt like you were swimming through the air and every breath you took was a work-out. But I had _shade_. I had _air conditioning_. I had _relief_ once in awhile. In the Barrens, you got _nothing_. Sun, sun, and more sun when you get tired of sun.

Ku is laughing at me. I honestly don't mean to bitch, but come _on_.

So the big question in my mind is: where to now? Somehow, I don't think anyone's going to recognize that I haven't enabled the PvP flag. Bless her heart, Ku is actually worried about me. Brahm just sort of rolls his eyes and shakes his big, bovine head. He's not much for conversation. Anyway, she's sent a letter to the warchief - the _warchief_ , dammit - asking if I can come to Orgrimmar. I couldn't read it, naturally, since it's in orcish or taurahe or some other weird-ass language, but she read it to me, and I have to say, she's being really overly generous. Okay, she's lying through her teeth. But at least she's not promising my ass to Garrosh Hellscream in exchange for sanctuary. I like to steer my own ship, thank you very much. I keep thinking about what the game designers did with him once he left Outland and Northrend, and it makes me want to barf. I mean, honestly, Garrosh looks _almost_ hawt on the load screen in that painting of the Kalmindor leaders. Then you actually meet him in Grommash Hold and it's like... really? I know that his bald head looks kind of small and weird compared to the rest of him, but your painter somehow pulled it off. What the hell happened between the canvas and the screen, people? So no, I don't think The Big Guy is going to enjoy my special attentions anytime soon.

Of course, I suppose I should explain something. The races actually look more like those paintings when you see them in real life than they do in the game. _Everything_ is more 'real'. The night elves are, if possible, more luminescent and graceful (and the ladies _don't_ do that boob-bounce thing when they're bored), the worgen are more feral and rough, the trolls are a bit less anorexic but certainly more wiry and whip-like, and the orcs... Not _near_ as much like green monkeys. And there isn't quite as much slouching as you see in the game, either. The orcs are mostly upstanding citizens, if you will. Especially the ones who act in a leadership capacity. Height is, apparently, king in the Horde, so if you've got the inches, flaunt it.

All right, get your mind out of the gutter. Honestly, you people.

On the other hand, even the bitty ones have a certain amount of presence. The goblins make up for their altitude challenge by being loud as hell. The dwarves just muscle people around a lot more effectively than most, and they do it loudly too. The gnomes... well, near as I can tell, they just scurry out of everyone's way. You can be bossy if you've got the voice for it, like goblins and dwarves, but if your vocalizations are pitched so high dogs whine and run away, you'd better keep that trap shut.

Well, it's looking like dinner's in the offing soon. Zugzug is looking at me with adoring eyes - or maybe she's just really damn hungry, it's hard to tell. Ku is much less likely to get mowed down outside of the relative safety of Ratchett, so she's gone out with one of her pets to hunt. Brahm is reading a book at the table here. I'm not much liking the looks some of these humans are giving me, but then I'm sitting next to him and not them. I swear, you'd think there was a war going on or something.


	14. Livin' it Up in Ratchet on Day 11

One thing you gotta give the goblins: they know how to party. Ratchet _rocks the house_ at night. Who knew? Once that god-awful sun sets, it's like mom and dad just left the kids without a babysitter for the first time. A few of the little green residents have a band, and they play on the roof of the armorer's house. The inn's bartender carts down a load of booze and sets up a temporary bar. These guys are short, but they know how to brew. _Much_ better than that Darkmoon Faire swill.

Our boat must have arrived after the last drunk was hauled away to sleep it off, because it was dead when we got here. Someone seriously charged the paddles tonight, though. I just wanted to take a quick break from all the dancing, schmoozing, and boozing going on and jot this down. A ship arrived at dusk and there are a couple of smexy trolls in town now. I might lose a day or two investigating their endowments for my scientific research.

Anyway, back to the par-tay!


	15. Day 12: Brahm is a Party Pooper

Definitely need a come to Jesus. Definitely. I'm sitting here, on the back of a stinky kodo. There is SUN. Like, loads and loads of SUN. SSSSUUUUUNNNNNN. I'd like to cover my whole head with a blanket, except I would suffocate in this HEAT. HEEEEEEEEEEAATTTTTT. Gah!

Quick recap, because it's hot, the sun is high, and I wish I was dead. Goblin booze tastes good going down. Not so good coming up. There is, apparently, a recommended consumption limit for non-goblins. No warning on the label, of course. Tells me the FDA has no jurisdiction in Azeroth.

I've got Brahm-the-wet-blanket at my back, since it's apparently required for the second rider on a kodo to face backwards. Presumably so I won't miss every dollop of kodo shit that falls.

He _so_ killed my buzz last night. I was in the middle of a competitive event in the inn against the Draen-orgen. I think me and the troll were winning. I know _I_ was screaming louder than the Worgen was. Along comes Mr. Mom and not only does he dump a bucket of sea water on us, he tells me to get my shit together, we're leaving!

So I've had _no_ sleep, I've barfed up most of what I drank and all of what I ate, didn't get to say good-bye to my new troll friend... _and_ I didn't get my cookie! WTF! The bull has a girlfriend he _obviously_ plows, and he doesn't know you don't leave her without her cookie? Five more minutes! Would that have killed him?

I suppose I should be grateful. Ku got word back from Hellscream's social secretary that a meeting outside of Orgrimmar was arranged, so that's where we're headed now. Joy. Goin' to the Crossroads. Can't wait. Where's my chat window with the Local Defense channel scrolling "The Crossroads is under attack!"? Probably in the same place the endlessly banal Barrens Chat is sitting, in which case I'll pass, thank you. We're supposed to get there by mid-afternoon, so we're trying to hustle.

Oh yeah, I know what you're thinking. Why not take a wyvern, huh? Or one of those fancy dragon mounts Ku and Brahm have? I asked the same thing. One, the Flightmaster in Ratchet _refused_ to set me on a wyvern without express orders from Hellscream. Two, the gryphon would have gotten shot out of the sky if it tried to land, so that was out of the question. Three – and here's where I'm confused – they didn't want to appear presumptuous or something. Like, escorting me in grand style astride a _dragon_ would make me look... regal or something. No, much better to drag me along, strapped to the ass of a kodo, to ensure that's what I smell like by the time we get there.

No, I'm not bitter. Much. Anymore. Today.

Oh yeah. FYI. The size of the tusk for trolls has no bearing on the size of the hoo-haw. These guys are _all_ built like battering rams. No, don't thank me. The sacrifice was worth it.


	16. Day 14 and WTF? Arrested AGAIN?

What is _with_ these people? They can't give me a break for five effing minutes?

Okay, maybe 'arrested' is a bit strong, but how else would you describe getting hog-tied by the Kor'kron Elite, dragged across the plains in a rickety wagon, and dumped in a guest room several flights of stairs underneath Grommash Hold? I didn't even know the Hold _had_ a basement.

If Ku and Brahm hadn't looked so surprised and complained, I might have thought they set me up. As it is, they really couldn't say much without getting their own asses in trouble. Warchief's orders and all. Greeeaaat. So I've lost the _second_ part of my diary now, but at least they didn't fuss too much about letting me have some parchment and a quill _this_ time. I almost had to blow the guard at the Stockade to get so little.

Two bits of silver lining, though. One, this time Zugzug wasn't summoned when I got nabbed, so I know she's safe. Two, and this is absolutely the best part, it's nice and cool down here. Wow, if I thought the Barrens were bad, Durotar is butt-nasty in the heat department. This is _desert_ , man. Scorpion-infested, dust-devil-swirling _desert_. Small thrill seeing a raptor off in the distance as the wagon rumbled in through the main entrance. My second tame on my first hunter ever, back before they gifted hunters with a freebie on sign-up, was a hot pink raptor from the Barrens I named Bigglesworth. Ah, those were the days. Ran with that guy for eighty levels. Sure, I tamed others, but nobody had my heart like Mr. Bigglesworth.

Anyway. This _sucks_ in such a huge sucky way, I can't even do justice to the level of suck going on here. There's a beefy orc outside the cell door, like I'm some uber-powerful Alliance agent who's likely to blow the door apart with my mad kung fu skills or something. I contend that if I had such powers, one little orc would be no match for me. At least they didn't use the manacles bolted to the stone walls. I get to sit quite comfortably on my... bed... thing. To be honest, in structure, it's not much different from the ones at the inn in Ratchett, which should insult someone, I'm just not sure whom. However, I don't think they washed the linens since the last prisoner was in here. Or the last twelve. It's a bit on the stiff-and-stanky side. Like, the rat-poop-covered floor is looking mighty appealing by comparison.

But hey! I get a bucket. These prison wardens sure know how to show a gal a good time, huh?


	17. Day 15 - Fast Talkin' Ain't Cuttin' It

Today had to have taken the blue ribbon for humiliating experiences. I thought it sucked having a bunch of unwashed human guard-types snickering behind their hands every time they passed. This morning I got to see the Warchief of the Horde take one look at me and nearly _wet_ himself laughing.

I knew what was going on right away. There was the bundle of my personal notes on a little table next to him. He must have been up all night reading about how much fun I had with Kurtok and Fentulk. Probably got a kick out of the Draen-orgen, too. Sure. Laugh it up. I'm not so sorry about the bald pinhead comments now; hope you enjoyed them, Garrosh.

At least I found out what the hell the deal was with the whole frog-marching into the dungeon thing. Evidently, Mr. Brown up in his throne room is all kinds of nervous about Alliance spies or somesuch, and anyone he thinks might be a threat gets 'special guest' treatment in the Hold, if they don't put up a fuss and wind up dead first. I think I've established pretty well that me and 'threat' don't belong in the same sentence.

Anyway, when he wiped the tears off his face, he asked me a few routine questions, and even a few that, if I answered, would likely be considered 'state secrets' or something by the Alliance. Meh. Screw'em. I remember the Stockade. You wanna know how to get to the palace from the docks? Allow me to draw you a map. And grab my journal while you're in there, if you'd be so kind. King Wrynn is a humorless git, and I don't much care for his grubby paws all over my precious writings.

After that, here's how the conversation went:

Garrosh: Are you serious? Did you really fuck these orcs?

Me: Honestly, who would lie about something like _that_?

Garrosh: Why the hell would you do that? You're a human!

Me: Well, I think if you glance back far enough, you'll find that Kurtok had red hair.

Garrosh: I can't believe this. _Red hair_ is all it takes? What about this other one?

Me: Oh, he was just willing and able. It gets damn dull on a ship, you know.

Garrosh: So you're a whore, then?

Me: I beg your fucking pardon! There is _no_ call for that! Honestly, what sort of Warchief _are_ you? I should tell your mother!

Garrosh: I don't know what the fuck _you_ call it, but I'll bet that's what your _king_ would say!

Me: Hey, I don't give a rat's ass what he'd say, and he isn't _my_ king!

Garrosh: You're _human_ , so Wrynn is your king!

Me: If I had a choice, _you_ _'d_ be my 'king', your Warchief-ness. At least you _would_ have been, until you started throwing rude comments around.

Garrosh: _I'm_ rude? _You're_ the one getting what you want out of my people by spreading your legs!

Me: Good grief. Look, if you flip back a bit, you'll see that it wasn't so much 'spreading' as 'bending over.'

Garrosh: I don't care _what_ position you took, you fucked my men!

Me: And this is a _crime_ now? Since when are the Blackrock orcs even remotely part of the Horde, anyway? When the hell did _that_ start? Because you'd better send them a memo; I don't think they're aware.

Garrosh: Fine, whatever! And here, what's this about the troll in Ratchett?

Me: [sigh] Great. First it's orcs I can't play with, now you're pulling out the 'don't fuck the trolls' card?

Vol'jin: Honestly, Garrosh, ah don' mind if she fucks duh trolls.

Garrosh: Shut up!

Me: Okay, if it _offends_ you in some way, I'm really sorry, and I'll never touch another orc as long as I live. Would that make it all better?

Random Kor'kron guard: [mutters] Damn.

Garrosh: You have used tactics that fly in the face of honor. I do not _want_ your kind in the Horde, no matter that you haven't killed any of my people.

Me: Oh, now, really. At the very least, I've probably given a few of them a really nice memory.

Garrosh: You have used your body to avoid what you don't want to do!

Me: _No_ , I've come up with clever and ingenius ways of solving problems without bloodshed. Jesus, where the hell is Thrall? _He'd_ probably be okay with this!

I think you get the general idea. Things degenerated from there, and now Garrosh is having a lie down, I expect. I could see the vein throbbing in his temple from across the room. My guard got switched to an orc woman from the Kor'kron gang, as if the boys can't be trusted. Or maybe _I_ can't be trusted with the _boys_. Something like that. When you think about it, it's hilarious. I mean, really. My _vagina_ is more dangerous than my gun?


	18. In a Thoughtful Mood on Day 17

Thought I'd do some contemplative jottings today, since I'm still stuck in the mediocre accommodations under His Mighty Warchief's floor. Believe it or not, sometimes I do wonder about the basics, even though I don't always write them down. I'm sure no one will get a thrill out of the meal delivery and rodent Wild Kingdom episodes playing down here, so here we go. Navel gazing for amateurs.

Question #1: What the _hell_ am I doing here?

Hell if I know. A better question, far less philosophical, would be 'how did I _get_ here,' but that's too technical. I'm sure there are all manner of reasons for it, none of which I'm likely to learn unless I run across some titan or avatar.

As to the question at hand, though... pfft. Don't know. Having the time of my life, mostly. I _could_ be rampaging around, shooting up folks, but it isn't as easy to do in practice as it is in theory. Some might say that sleeping with a bunch of strangers is _also_ difficult in practice, but oddly enough, it hasn't been.

Let me put it this way: where I come from, there are always _consequences_ to _everything_. There are diseases, there are significant others, there are cultural taboos... Enough crap to suck the fun right out of the room, you know? But in Azeroth... well, okay, I don't know for sure that there aren't diseases, and I'll just bet one of these days, there'll be a trip to the local clinic in my future if I keep going like I'm going, but as to the rest...

Okay, here's the deal. I come from a place that is wound up so tight about sex that all the countries that _don't_ freak out at a randomly exposed nipple during a football halftime show, laugh their asses off at us every time they see us going all postal about it. I mean, my country was founded by people who were so uptight, and so vocal about their uptightness, that _their_ countrymen politely urged them to get the fuck out of town. So you have people getting naughty in dark rooms, hoping nobody sees them do it; you've got them sneaking a peek at internet porn in the middle of the night after the family goes to bed; people pointing the finger at anyone _openly_ doing what they don't want anyone to know _they_ do when the lights are out...

I come here, and the things that would normally be obstacles just aren't there. It took hanging out with the Horde races to see that, though. The Alliance people may as well be a direct import from my own world, the puritanical dipwads. So yeah, maybe I'm spending way more time on my back than I would have back home, and there are probably people I know who would act all appalled and go, 'you're being exploited, Karie! They're taking advantage of you!' You know something? _I'm_ the owner of my vagina, and if I say, 'hey, that looks like something I'd like to make friends with,' it's _my choice_. Those guys - Kurtok, Fentulk, Rinling, Mr. Nameless-Troll-Who-Gave-Me-The-Ride-of-a-Lifetime-in-Ratchett - they didn't force me to do anything. Okay, maybe Kurtok would have, he was kind of a rough-and-rowdy sort, but the _point_ is, I came, I saw, I conquered, and I came like a _very_ happy explosive charge every time. What do _I_ have to apologize for?

Question #2: When is this trip through the game world going to stop being a cheap prison movie?

Don't know the answer there. I hope things settle down. Rumors filter down occasionally when the dinner tray gets delivered, and I think Garrosh is recovering from the shock enough to think about practical stuff. Even _he_ isn't dumb enough to miss the fact that I have no motivation for furthering Alliance interests in Horde-controlled territories. It'll probably turn into him asking me to put my, shall we say, 'special skills' to work spying for the Horde. I'll have to help him understand that human dicks just don't thrill me like they used to. If I wanted to ride a human male to the finish line, I'd go the fuck back home.

Question #3: What happened to Ku and Brahm?

Wish I knew. They'd better not have gotten in any trouble. That's a cute couple, you know. I may bitch about Brahm being a stick-in-the-mud, but when I see him give Ku a little tug on her tail, and see her sort of giggle and squirm, it's just _so adorable_. Do _not_ be messin' with my homegirl, Garrosh.

Question #4: Will I run into the Draen-orgen again?

Given how dull it is down here, I kind of wish they were in the cell next door. Weird, I know. They've almost come to represent the comforts of home, I've had to listen to and/or watch them so much. You get used to it, after having it a yard away from you for a week. I think next time I see them, and I'm sure I will, I'll pelt her with popcorn every time she switches forms on him. Got yer back, dude.


	19. Day 19: FREEDOM!... AGAIN!

Just a quickie while I wait for my 'escort.' Garrosh must have gotten an earful from Vol'jin, because he's turning me over to the trolls for assimilation. Apparently, that scary vagina of mine is too much of a threat for Garrosh's precious Kor'kron boys to face. Thank god for the trolls stepping up, huh?

Now, I'm sure they didn't really _mean_ assimilate, like from a Borg perspective or something, but it sure sounded like that when they were bandying words like 'cultural immersion' and 'specialized training' around. So this guy (and I'm certain it'll be a guy, just based on the big fat grin on Vol'jin's face) is supposed to escort me out to the Echo Isles, set me up in some temporary lodgings, and help me learn how to be a half-way decent hunter.

God, I hope he's cute. Nice, too. Cute and nice, I think, are owed me after all this crap.


	20. Feeling the Hate Once Again on Day 20

NOT NICE. Maybe a little cute, but NOT NICE. Gruff, grumbly, bitchy, BASTARD. My 'escort' is a hunt-tard named Roznik, and if he lives through the night after what _he_ pulled, it'll only be because he's got friends watching his back.

Okay, ass-wipe picks me up outside of Grommash Hold. I was feeling really overwhelmed, so I wasn't paying much attention to him at first. I mean, first look out the door since getting dragged into the Hold and all. I probably forgot to mention being frickin' blindfolded once they got me to the front entrance of the city. Anyway, it's amazing, really. It's the game's view of Orgrimmar, but on steroids, like everything around here. And yeah, there were loads of people running around on foot and on mounts. A few bothered to do a double-take when they saw little me surrounded by beefy orc guards and Mr. Stoopie, but they must be used to seeing weird shit coming out of Grommash Hold. Really, take a look at the Warchief sometime. Yeah, he looks like an ass. Grow some hair, dude. You're embarrassing us.

I'd almost forgotten how _red_ everything is. Loads of desert sand in that rusty orange coloring. While Garrosh had the place rebuilt after the Cataclysm using that black rock and metal or whatever the hell it's made of, it's got a film of the dust on it, so nothing's really shiny and new anymore. Sorry, dude. We just can't have nice things.

But I digress. First, Shit-nik takes off like a shot around the corner, and even the orc guards were hard-pressed to keep up with him. It was like he didn't want to be seen with me or something. We had to wait on the next elevator up to the mesa where the zeppelin towers and flightmaster are, he got so far ahead. Jerk. So we finally caught up to his ass, and he was arguing with the flightmaster. He had orders from Garrosh, but those orders were that he had to ride _with_ me. He couldn't talk the grizzled orc into letting him sneak ahead.

I was totally soured on him by then, so having to snuggle up with him for who knows how long a damn flight didn't really appeal too much to me either. The flightmaster lined up a wyvern for us, but held the reins so the little fuck-tard didn't make a run for it. Honestly, if _anyone_ should have been trying to escape their fate, it should've been _me_. I dare you to find a single Alliance person who would want to trade places with me, and go live among the trolls.

Then _we_ got in an argument, because I didn't want to sit in front of him where he could easily pitch me off the animal somewhere over Durotar.

Roznik: Ah don' wantcha behind me.

Me: What, afraid I'll grab your goodies?

Roznik: Ah don' know what dat means. Ah don' wanna knife in mah back, pink-skin.

Me: What the hell is wrong with you? What makes you think anyone has let me within a mile of a weapon since I got here?

Roznik: Women got ways, and ah don' trust yuh.

Me: They must be such amazing ways, _I'm_ not even aware of them, you big chicken.

Roznik: Ah ain' a chicken! Yuh got duh Warchief anxious, wantin' yuh outta Orgrimmar. Whatchou done, mon?

Me: Okay, Garrosh Hellscream is a paranoid schizophrenic, all right? I didn't do _anything_.

Roznik: Yuh be Alliance, yuh musta done _sometin'_.

Me: You're a troll, you must've fallen out of a tree yesterday. _I didn't do anything!_

Roznik: Pink-skin bitch.

Me: Moss-covered dickweed.

Roznik: Ain' moss, stupid 'liance scum!

Me: Oh, like I _care_.

Roznik: Yuh sit in front where ah can keep an eye on yuh.

Me: _You_ sit in front so I can keep an eye on _you_.

Roznik: Woman, yuh be in Horde lands now, yuh got more tuh prove den I do. Yuh sit in front like a good gehl, mebbe I won' throw yuh off.

Me: See? That is _exactly_ why I don't want to sit in front of you, asshole! That, and I don't want your 'staff' all up in my business for the whole trip!

Doras, Flightmaster Extraordinaire: Will you two stop bitchin' and get on the damn wyvern? You're holdin' up the line!

Roznik: Ah don' want her at my back!

Me: And I don't want his _dick_ in my ass!

Roznik: Dat ain' whut _ah_ heard!

Doras: Tell yuh what - I knock you _both_ unconscious and tie you on the beast's back. If you wake up before you get to Sen'jin, you can figure out who's sitting in front then.

Needless to say, we both sort of cooled it with _that_ threat on the table. It ended up with me in front, deathgrip on the wyvern's mane, while Ass-nik held the reins. Finally, we took off.

It was a pretty quiet flight, really. As luck would have it, _that troll_ has pretty short tusks that curve up, so at least I didn't have the threat of perforation on top of everything else. But hell yeah, he got a boner rubbing against my ass for the three quarters of an hour we were in the air. I swore I'd pitch him head-first into that tiny little pond that's in the village, but the little shit beat me to the punch. We're not three seconds on the ground, and he shoved me so hard I lost my balance and fell right in.

He _said_ it was an accident, but that's bullshit. People who do things by accident don't snicker about it when they think you're not looking.

Of course, the only way to the Echo Isles is by boat. I was close to murdering the asshole by the time we made it down the hill to the seashore and got in one of those fishing boats with an outrigger attached to the side. Another troll did the punting to get us across, and I just glared daggers at Roznik the whole way. _He_ sat there bitching and whining to himself in Zandali, occasionally getting a sympathetic chuckle from the other troll. Yeah, have a great time laughing it up, boys. You _both_ suck.

We got dumped out on this sandbank of an islet, and walked up a long wooden bridge. I have to admit, I suppose, that the whole atmosphere, once I got into troll-occupied lands, was very primitive in a comforting sort of way. Like, you'd never need to worry about whether you were going to be late for work because work would start when you were ready to get moving. I don't mean the trolls seemed lazy, they just seemed... economical. Easy-going. Unstressed. Wandering through the training grounds on the way to the settlement gave me the impression that, when their attention is focused, they throw everything they've got into it. Outside of the training grounds, everything was kind of laid back.

There's what sounds like a hell of a good party cranking up outside the hut I'm sharing with Vol'jin's buddy, Vanira. He wasn't here when I arrived, but she's making sure I'm comfortable. You know, it's cool how they've just opened up their arms to me, even though I'm human. Well, except for Crank-nik the Whiner. He unloaded me as fast as he could and ran for the hills. Good riddance. If the threat was real, though, I'll be seeing way more of his ass than I ever wanted to.


	21. Day 21: Now I Know What Luggage Feels Like

Oh god, I hurt. I'm remembering that my last entry in this diary mentioned how the trolls throw themselves into something when they're focused. Apparently, if you're not quick off the mark to throw yourself, they do it for you.

I have been almost literally dragged _all_ around the main island, running _laps_. The trainer, Ortezza decided I lacked both stamina and muscle definition. Probably a nice way of saying I was getting fat and lazy. I'm really glad that tool of a hunt-ard wasn't around for _that_ little discussion. I'd probably _still_ be hearing about it.

Yeah, Roznik's back, the little shit. He's apparently not much further along in the training than I am. He has the rare advantage around here of knowing the 'common tongue' so he's supposed to stick around and translate for me until I get the hang of Orkish. Ortezza, thank god, knows a bit of common – enough to get across the general idea of how big my ass is – so he doesn't have to be chained to my side, necessarily. Which is good, because she had to give me the absolute bare bones basics. That's why I'm sore.

Either the Alliance didn't care that I couldn't use a sword for anything more dangerous than opening letters, or the Horde actually had the courtesy to _ask_. I've spent most of the day sparring with one of the 'kids', as Ortezza puts it. Damn, these troll 'kids' are bigger than I am. Because Ass-nik is well beyond learning where the pointy end goes, he was off running around with his raptor pet, killing lynxes and gathering pelts. I got basic instruction in the one-handed sword, hand axe, and spear. I think I'm going to like the spear best. Keeps the ickies _really_ far away. You know, when the gun fails and they get all up in your grill. Ortezza decided I knew the gun well enough to let it go for awhile, and concentrated on the melee weapons, which surprised me, since I'm a hunter. I'm not _supposed_ to get in melee. I tried to convey this to her, and she just shrugged. Later on, I asked Roznik why I was getting such intense training in stuff I shouldn't have to worry about, and he said, get this, "Whatchou gonna do when yer gun breaks? Shout at'em?" Ass.

He wasn't particularly sympathetic about the misery I was in when training was over for the day. I dragged myself to the hut where the new recruits sleep, and collapsed in a hammock that didn't already have a stinky, sweaty troll laying in it, only to find that he was in the one above me. Great.

When I groaned long and low on settling, he flipped over and looked down at me with narrowed eyes.

Roznik: Yuh gonna moan all night?

Me: If it bothers you, then that's my plan. [imitation of cafe scene from _When Harry Met Sally_ ]

Roznik: [leering] Yuh wan' me tuh join yuh down dere?

Me: Roznik, I'm too much woman for you. Your head would explode.

Roznik: [sexy purr] Ah'll be duh judge'uh dat.

Jerk.


	22. Hitting the Books on Day 22

Who would have thought that _trolls_ would include classroom exercises in their new recruit training program? The morning was spent getting my ass handed to me in sword practice, then embarrassing myself _massively_ with a bow. Yeah, they didn't just let me use my gun. Oh no. Gotta have experience with other types of ranged weapons, apparently. So Ortezza gave me this beaten up old bow, pointed me at a roughly person-shaped target, and said, "Let'er rip." Or words to that effect. Ten minutes later, the dummy hasn't a scratch on it, but several of my fellow recruits are still in hiding. Shit-nik laughed his _ass_ off, which earned him the duty of teaching me how to aim. Wiped the smile right off his face. Jerk.

In the afternoon, when I thought I'd be thrown to the wolves, so to speak, I ended up sitting in a semi-circle with a bunch of other hunters, listening to a grizzled old Shadowhunter telling tales of battles long ago, and the tactics used to win them. Of course, he spoke in Zandali, which I have _no_ knowledge of. It was really weird, watching his animated gestures as he reenacted his old war stories, at the same time that Roznik was whispering translations in my ear. Too damn close to my ear, if you ask me. His tusks touched my hair a few times, he was that close.

Now might be a good time to talk about troll breath, since I've had my fair share of it in my face. I wouldn't exactly say they smell minty-fresh, but it's not... really unpleasant. Their diet is largely fish and fruit harvested locally on the island, with maybe a few bits and pieces flown in from the mainland. There's pork, too, but not a great deal of red meat. I hadn't given it much thought, but I guess red meat makes your breath stinky as hell, because these people aren't afflicted particularly with halitosis to any great degree.

In any case, a surprisingly easy day. I suspect there'll be a pop quiz tomorrow on what we learned, though. There's _always_ a test, right? Wouldn't want to waste the old geezer's time. However, an easy day with minimal exertion seems to be the catalyst for a round of 'who's your daddy' in the barracks. They're pairing up all around me. I have to say, it's gotten to be like that comforting drone of an air conditioner that lulls you to sleep, thanks to the dedication of the Draen-orgen.

Ah, shit. Roznik's giving me the eye. Wonder what _he_ wants? Like I have to ask.


	23. Later on Day 22

Damn, I have to write about this. It's too delicious to wait til morning. Totally 'boo-yah'ed' Roznik. I'm still giddy.

Okay, so left and right of my hammock, there's one bouncing troll ass after another, lots of moaning and groaning going on. Damn if there just weren't enough girls to go completely round, though. I _think_ I caught a glimpse of a couple of guys in the corner, but I could be wrong. Anyway, Roz leans over his hammock above me, does this eyebrow thing and grins.

Roznik: Yuh wanna?

Me: My stars, aren't _you_ romantic?

Roznik: Dey said in Orgrimmar dat yuh fucked a troll in Ratchet.

Me: I fucked a troll in Elwynn Forest, too, but King Wrynn's wanking to _that_ part of my diary. It never made it this far.

Roznik: Really? Dat be innerestin'. Yuh like trolls, do yuh?

Me: Occasionally. They're an acquired taste.

Roznik: So... yuh acquired a taste, eh? Ah got summat foh yuh tuh... taste.

Me: I don't know about that. Orcs are pretty... tasty, too.

Roznik: [blank stare]

Me: I've always been a sucker for red hair. Pity yours is blue.

Roznik: Ah could change duh color...

Me: Until you change the fact that you're _Roznik_ and you _suck,_ you can just go take care of your own business up there.

Roznik: Yuh ain' so tasty yuhself.

Me: Aw, we're pouting now?

Roznik: Yuh jus' don' know what yuh missin'.

Me: I beg to differ. I know _exactly_ what I'm 'missing,' and you ain't got it, honey.

Roznik: See if ah offer yuh anytin' again.

Me: Oh, you will. I guarantee it.

Roznik: So sure, are yuh? Yuh tink ah can' handle yuh? _You_ can' handle _me._

Me: I'll have you in tears, begging for a glance.

Roznik: Yah? Yuh'll be on yuh knees prayin' to duh loa for a kiss.

Me: I suspect you'll be whining and groveling by the end of the week.

Roznik: Yuh'll be t'rowin' yuhself at me in a couple days.

Me: I seriously doubt it. Why waste my time going after _you?_ There'd be no challenge in it.

Roznik: Yuh tink ah'd be easy?

Me: Roz, you're a desperate kid who'd fuck a coconut if it looked at you funny. Now why don't you see if you can get in on the action somewhere else? I'd like to get some sleep.

Roznik: Yuh can sleep t'rough dis?

Me: I can sleep through damn near anything. I suspect I'd sleep through _your_ pitiful attempt. Good night.

Oh _god_ , the look on his face! Secret time: he's really not all that bad, and he _does_ have a certain... charm. But I'll be damned if I'm going to make it easy on him. He knocked me into a puddle that could drown a kodo. I don't forget shit like that.


	24. Day 23 - I Can NOT Believe This

What the fuck, there are _TWO_ of them?

Okay, chill. As part of my training, I've pretty much been ensconced with the hunters. It's been a real party, let me tell you. Last night's fun, just the icing on the cake. Roznik's humiliation, the cherry smack dab on top with lots of gooey whipped cream.

Today, we got to hang out with another group of trainees learning to be druids. This bunch had just mastered how to shapeshift into cat form, so there were about half a dozen gaudily colorful cats bounding around the training grounds. One came galloping up to us and totally bowled Roznik over. Then all of a sudden, the big white and purple-striped cat shifted back to troll form, and the two of them wrestled happily in the dirt. Eventually, calm was restored and they stood, dusting one another off.

I had to do a double-take. Maybe their hair was different colors, and this guy seemed to have a penchant for decoration because his tusks were _covered_ in carved symbols, but they were mirror images otherwise. I groaned as Roznik brought him over to introduce us.

Daznik. His twin. Greeeeaat. And get this: Daznik started _lecturing_ me . Can you believe it?

Daznik: Yuh be good to mah bruddah, yuh hear?

Me: Have you heard otherwise? [dripping innocence]

Daznik: He ain' jus' yuh translatuh. He yuh protectuh.

Me: [rolling eyes] About all he's protected me from so far is being dry.

Daznik: Yuh tink yuh be safe here? If he don' keep duh mens off'uh yuh...

Me: Hold up there, kiddo. I have done very well for myself without his help.

Roznik: She _likes_ fuckin' trolls, Daz.

Daznik: Yah, well, not ten or twelve at one time.

Me: Oh, I don't know. That sounds kinky, but... interesting.

Roznik: Hmph. Wouldn't give _me_ nuttin' las' night.

Me: You're _still_ pouting? Tsk, tsk. Honestly, Roz. At least _try_ to be graceful about it.

Daznik: Yuh made a grab fo' her?

Roznik: Nah, jus' asked nice. Tol' me tuh fuck a coconut.

Daznik: [snickering] I knows whut tuh give yuh fo' yuh birt'day, den.

Roznik: [unintelligible Zandali spluttering]

Daznik: Nevuh mind. Jus' go easy on'im.

Me: If I made it _easy_ , it wouldn't be _fun_.

Daznik: Make it _hard_ , den. [wink] _Den_ make it fun.

Roznik: Dat's whut ah'm talkin' 'bout.

Me: I'm sure you boys are _delightful_ at parties, but unless I get to enjoy _both_ of you _at the same time_ , I'm afraid there will be no fun. Easy _or..._ hard.

Daznik: [stunned silence]

Roznik: [ditto]

Me: Always wanted to have that twins experience. Let me know when you get your mouths closed. We might be able to negotiate something.

It's amazing how easily macho, strutting men can have the wind taken out of their sails. Yeah, maybe I didn't make a very good impression on Ass-nik's brother, but I made an _impression_. One he won't soon forget. And maybe now he'll get the hell out of my face. This business is between me and Shit-nik. If he wants a little bit of this, he's going to work for it.


	25. Massive Quantities of Doo-Doo on Day 25

Sex: those who want it often aren't getting it; those who're getting it don't want it very often. And Troll men who have a hankering for a bit of cross-factional, inter-species relations can get awful pissy if they _think_ they're next in line and find out someone else jumped in front of them.

We had another of those visiting professor lectures yesterday, so the barracks was rocking off its supports by midnight. It had been, what, a couple weeks at least since I last got a little lovin'? Considering how the last round finished off, with almost literal bull shit getting heaped on my head by one overly crabby Tauren, I felt I deserved a bit of romping.

I found a nice-looking, _red haired_ Troll with loose morals (it seems to be a racial trait) and zero misgivings about my race, and rode him like a rodeo stallion. While I didn't care at the time, I found out later on that Roznik had been spending the evening catching up with his brother before the kid had to take off for Moonglade for advanced training with the druids out there.

When he got back to the barracks and saw me content as a cat in the arms of... whatever the hell his name was, he blew a damn gasket. I half expected to see smoke coming out his ears. He pulled me off the guy and ripped into him with such a ridiculously loud and sputtering stream of Zandali that everyone in the immediate area cleared. _Then_ they started to fight. Over _me_. Holy crap, that hasn't happened to me since grade school!

I have no patience with that sort of asinine, childish behavior, so I pulled my clothes back on and retired to my hammock on the other side of the building. A few of the women giggled when I showed absolutely no interest in the outcome of their battle. I picked up a few words along the way that I'd learned, mostly indecorous references to males without genitals or something like that. It was difficult to translate. Anyway, without a nervously hand-wringing female hovering around them, worried about which one would come out the dominant male worthy of mating with her, the fight sort of petered out.

Eventually I heard Roznik making his way in my direction and rolled my eyes. Good god, I thought to myself, what the hell did he want now?

"Wanna talk to yuh," he growled. I had my back to him, and just glanced over my shoulder to give him my most withering look. He looked _pissed_. And there was blood trickling from his mouth. Great. Now he would expect me to coo over his wounds. Pfft.

So I got up and followed him out of the barracks. In all honesty, there was a thread of apology growing inside me. I really hadn't thought he wanted more than a tumble, but the whole display back there, even though I didn't know what the hell he said to that guy, led me to believe that maybe something else was going on with him. Because really, if he just wanted to get laid, he could take a number. He was good-looking and... sort of... not too repellent as a person... I _might_ go for him at some point. You never know.

Or he could just chat up one of the other ladies. Goodness, I don't have the _only_ vagina on the island, you know.

Anyway, he paced for a bit, trying to get his temper under control. Every time he stopped and looked at me, it seemed to set him off again, and he had to walk some more.

Roznik: Why yuh fuck _him_ , den? Eh, mon?

Me: A few reasons. One, there's no law against it. Two, I _wanted_ to. Three, and this is the _most_ important reason, he has red hair.

Roznik: Ah _tol'_ yuh ah could change mah hair. Yuh coulda _waited_.

Me: Roz, what are you saying here? Are you jealous or something?

Roznik: Fuck no! Ah ain' jealous. Yuh can fuck whatevuh yuh wanna fuck. Don' make no diff'rence tuh me.

Me: Um... right. So that guy... what, owed you money? Insulted your grandmother? Peed in your bran flakes?

Roznik: Ah... nevuh mind. Go on. Go fuck anothuh one. Ah don' care. Fuck duh Warchief. Fuck Vol'jin. Ah don' fuckin' care.

Then he just stormed away. I haven't seen him all day, and I can't help feeling a little... sorry. I really didn't think that taking the piss out of Roznik would suddenly feel so... lousy. Because it's been _hilarious_ doing it up to this point. Totally killed the thrill that redhead left me with, too.


	26. Day 26 and I've Got Better Things to Do

I didn't get to worry about Roznik's teen drama this morning when I reported to the training grounds. I must have dinged level 10 in the middle of the night. Apparently, fucking trolls grants experience, because they finally taught us how to train pets and _communicate_ with them. Give them commands and such. Man, I always took it for granted in the game. Just click a hot-button or tap a shortcut key, and shazam, pet goes wild. It _so_ isn't that easy in reality.

For starters, Zugzug is a _wolf_. So, you know, doesn't think like I do. Orteza said that, since we're the supposedly superior intelligence, the onus was on _us_ to bridge the gap. She also mentioned that every species had a different opinion about which one of us should be the domininant brain in the paradigm. Could make for some interesting taming later on.

Yeah, whatever, I was just interested in finding out why Zugzug licked her ass all the time. Or what juicy bits of gossip sniffing an ass revealed. You know, the important questions.

As it turns out, I couldn't get these ideas across _at all_. I had to use imagery that _she_ would understand. Orteza said that it would help to use settings that were familiar to the pet, such as the land where they came from. So I had to think of Elwynn Forest, I guess. Our first conversation went something like this:

Me: [wolf licking its butt]

Zugzug: [wolf licking its butt even more enthusiastically]

Me: [add myself looking bewildered, shrugging, that sort of thing]

Zugzug: [add _me_ licking _my_ butt in a completely awkward and physically impossible way]

Me: [me barfing]

Zugzug: [wolf licking my butt in a conciliatory manner]

Me: [giving up entirely and walking away]

Zugzug: [groveling and rolling over to show her belly]

Me: [sighing and rubbing wolf's belly]

Zugzug: [tail wagging and tongue lolling happily]

Not exactly a clever exchange, but at least I learned one thing: Ain't no _why_ in wolf language. I figured out later on that time didn't have much meaning to her, either. Wolves, and probably most animals, live almost entirely in the present moment. Trying to express time through imagery – what happened yesterday, what I expect of her tomorrow – is damn near impossible.

And the connection itself isn't a constant one, either. I actually have to make a conscious effort to open it, like holding down the talk button on a walkie talkie. Orteza had a somewhat insulting thought on that one, too. She pointed out that trolls will _always_ be better at it than humans because they embrace their wilder nature. Humans try to suppress it.

So basically we suck as hunters, I guess. Fine. You want wild nature? I'll give you wild nature. Me and Zugzug'll win whatever competition you want to stage, lady. Bring it.

I guess I'd better switch from personal hygiene to actual useful communication, then. Time to hit the training grounds. I know a few dummies in need of a good ass-ripping.


	27. Major WTFs on Day 27

Today started out like any regular day: get up, bitch at everyone in sight for being so fucking perky and happy to greet the day, grumble over fruit and bread for breakfast _again_ , drag ass over to the training grounds, snap at fellow hunters, whine at Orteza, grumble some more, shoot the fuck out of a training dummy because it's the only thing I _can_ kill around here... You get the picture. I'm not a morning person. That should have been obvious by now.

Anyway, things changed up not long after we took our morning break. Orteza gathered us all up and led us down to the long pier, where we piled into those outrigger canoes and headed back to the mainland. Most of what was said was in Zandali, so I had almost no clue what we were doing. Roznik the Professional Pouter still hadn't shown his face, so I was pretty much on my own and following the crowd like a sheep.

There was a young guy in Sen'jin Village who got collared by Orteza and talked into translating for us. Rogue named Drizzul. Black hair, in case you were wondering. Hot and sexy, of course, because that's _also_ a racial trait, but at the moment I was still sort of... um... never mind. Anyway, long story short, he told me what the plan was for the day.

The Alliance had some asswipes supplying a forward command location west of the village, and we were going to 'clear it out.'

Yeah. Us hunters. 'Clear it out.'

But wait! Another flotilla started pulling ashore, and now we had a mix of warriors, priests and rogues coming to join us. Good. Share the wealth, I always say. Why send seasoned soldiers when you can throw the cannon fodder trainees at them?

But I'd done this quest before. Enter the valley, wipe up the floor with those dorks, collect reward. Snap. Except that was in the _game_.

I voiced my protest on the grounds that I'm a pacifist. Drizzul didn't know a word in Zandali for that. Probably didn't know what it meant in Common, either. So I tried to explain it to him, and for some reason, he got the idea that I meant _anarchist_. Yeah, whatever, dude. Close enough.

Again, long story short, I hung out with the Witch Doctor in Training while my team went out to play footsies with the Northwatch guys.

So I'm chatting up Bom'bay by his big-ass cauldron full of the green bubbly, and who should I see heading for the bats but the long-absent Roznik? Naturally, I waved at him and was all set to haul ass in his direction because he _totally_ left me hanging with all the translating business, when he _scowled_ at me. Positively _glowered_. Then he turned his back on me, hired a bat, and took off.

Like that wasn't bad enough, Bom'bay snickered at me.

Me: What's so damn funny?

Bom'bay: Know a pissed mon when ah see'im.

Me: Well, do you know a pissed _woman_? He _ditched_ me, and I don't speak Zandali.

Bom'bay: Oh, dat don' look like a leetle fight. You's done cut'im to duh quick.

Me: _I_ did? What the hell are you talking about?

Bom'bay: [snicker] Ah be knowin' duh boy many years. When he gots pain, he come to duh doctor.

Me: Ooookay, so... what's his problem?

Bom'bay: Name'uh Zuti mean anyting to yuh?

Me: No. Should it?

Bom'bay: He just be Roznik's worst enemy, next to duh Alliance. Bad blood 'tween'em. Much hate.

Me: And... this is important because... why?

Bom'bay: He say yuh fucked ol' Zuti du'udder night. Unduhstand now?

Me: Ah. Um. That... explains...

Bom'bay: Ah ain' one tuh pry, but mebbe yuh best get yuh ass up tuh Orgrimmar and beg fuhgiveness. Coz he be hurtin'.

Me: All right, now you've gone too far with your butting into my business. I don't have to apologize for _anything_. It's not _my_ fault he's got issues with this... Ziti guy.

Bom'bay: Zuti.

Me: Whatever. He doesn't _own_ me, and I don't owe _him_ a god damned thing.

Bom'bay: Didn' say nuttin' like dat. Nobody tinks he owns yuh. Ah ain' tellin' yuh to be 'shamed'uh what yuh done, neither. Yuh wanna fuck somebody, go ahead and fuck'em. Yuh got duh right. Jus' tell'im yuh sorry it was Zuti dis time. Mebbe promise yuh won' go fuckin' dat boy again.

Me: [glaring] I don't owe him _that_ , either.

Bom'bay: [shrugs] Yuh wan'im tuh help yuh out, yuh bettuh start 'pologizin'. Duh boy's mad. Ain' goin' away till one'uh yuh bends.

Me: Like I care.

Bom'bay: Yuh care. And he cares. Mebbe it be time yuh bot' let go yuh pride and open yuh eyes.

Me: All right, listen: I've known him for, what, a week? You can _not_ tell me he's in love with me. And you _sure_ as hell better not tell me I'm somehow magically in love with him.

Bom'bay: Duh loa work in mysterious ways, mon. Be jus' like'em tuh fuck yuh both ovuh like dat.

 _Well_. Talk about pissy. I was about ready to kick someone's ass by the time I stormed away from that mad Witch Doctor. 'In training' my ass. Of course, the crazy young coot didn't think of one tiny detail: I wasn't free to waltz around Orgrimmar. Nor was I likely to understand what anyone was saying around me.

So long, _long_ story short, I'm sitting in the barracks-like inn at Razor Hill. Because he speaks Common and couldn't outrun me, Drizzul is along for the ride. He's currently snoring like a beaten pig on the bed next to mine. Even the innkeeper's looking at him like he wants to stab him with his own broken-off tusks.

I can't _believe_ I'm hunting that bastard down. I won't be groveling, I promise you that. He can just shove his little playground rivalry issues straight up his ass. _This_ gal don't play that shit.


	28. Rights of Passage Earned on Day 28

We're currently waiting on the Razor Hill flightmaster to get his ass in gear, so a quick update. Drizzul has turned out to be somewhat useful. He sent a note ahead to the necessary authorities (presumably Garrosh's right-hand Orc) yesterday, requesting official permission for me to waltz around Orgrimmar in search of Assnik the Pouty, and now the flightmaster is poring over the response, evidently trying to figure out if there's a loophole in there somewhere that'll allow him to be an asshole.

I'm just sitting here on the dusty ground under his little awning that provides a tiny amount of relief from the glaring sun. Drizzul's in some kind of debate with him over the letter, frequently pointing at it and flailing his arms around. The flightmaster keeps shaking his head, pointing at me, pointing south toward the ruins of Tiragarde Keep, making rude gestures, and probably swearing a lot. It's all in Orcish, so I have no frickin' clue what's being said. It's actually quite amusing, watching him bark and roar at Drizzul, who's giving him what for with just as much gusto. Nice not to be the direct target of someone's pissiness for a change.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still mad about having to do this in the first place. Childish snits don't go over well with me. If this is because I chose his rival over him in the whole hanky panky department, I'm going to kill him when I see him, 'best behavior' in the middle of Horde Central be damned.

I suppose I _could_ consider the possibility, however small, that Bom'bay was on to something. Maybe... maybe it's not about being the 'lucky' one who got to screw the only human in the vicinity. Maybe it's not about contest or conquest. I hate to think of myself as being someone particularly... desirable, because therein lies the path to arrogance and snootiness. I just never was one of those 'popular' girls in high school or even college who had a harem of goo-goo-eyed guys following me around, hoping I'd glance their way. I knew girls like that and I'm sorry, they were total cunts. They took advantage of their power and basked in the attention, knowing they never had to return the interest or the affection in any way, and it would _still keep coming_. I'm not like that. If Roznik somehow has some kind of interest in me that goes beyond his duty as translator, then I'm obligated to address it head on.

Not that I'm going to leap into the sack with him. While the thought's appealing in a way, it's completely different when one party has more invested in it than the other. I'm not a bitch about _that_. I'm not going to take advantage of his... whatever. His heart, I guess. That's a game I don't play, either.


	29. Day 28 Continued: Orgrimmar, Sweet Orgrimmar

Grommash Hold is just as full of cranky, pissy, stern, and forbidding Orcs as it was _last_ time I was here. Do they _really_ think that sort of attitude is necessary in the heart of their own territory? Honestly, who are they trying to scare? Loosen up, people. Relax. Smile once in awhile. It's like a room full of those palace guards in London the tourists are always trying to get a laugh out of.

But I digress. The Razor Hill flightmaster finally relented, once a superior officer came along and thumped him a good one. Reminding him in the gentle way of superior officers everywhere that the warchief issued a frickin' order and it wasn't his place to question.

That exchange got a chuckle out of Drizzul, who explained to me once we were in the air flying lazily over the gorges and mesas that the Orc captain said, "No matter what bit of Alliance trash you have to transport." So much for kindness. Thankfully the look on my face at _that_ insult sobered Drizzul right up, and he mumbled an apology for laughing.

When we arrived, Doras the Ogrimmar flightmaster greeted me with something in the vicinity of cheerfulness, even commenting that I seemed to have traded up in the troll department. This one didn't seem nearly as anxious to murder me, which was surprising given his profession. That got a growl out of Drizzul, but he's a pretty quiet guy, and didn't say anything. A Kor'Kron Elite was standing at the ready to escort me here to the Hold, and I had to laugh. Garrosh is still afraid of my vagina undermining his authority with his troops, and sent a female. Pity I don't swing that way, or I'd try to seduce _her_ just to piss him off.

All the way here, I got looks and sneers, and a few catcalls. Probably half a dozen really god-awful names as well, because Drizzul seemed to be seething a bit over the words shouted in our direction. He wouldn't tell me what they said, and Korky didn't say a word either, so I had to assume they were really nasty. Funny how one hurt look brought him right around to sympathetic indignation at the abuse I was receiving. He didn't go and bonk heads or verbally defend me, but he _looked_ pissed. Maybe that was about all I was going to get.

At the moment, I'm waiting for an audience with His Warchiefness. He's currently embroiled in some sort of nonsensical debate with a hauntingly familiar Draenei man representing the Earthen Ring, judging by his tabard design. Their translators are sweating profusely and nearly coming to blows themselves. Drizzul's squatting on the floor next to me, occasionally chuckling to himself. He doesn't seem inclined to share what's being discussed, and I'm not sure I much care. I'm just hoping that isn't one half of the Draen-orgen up there, and if it _is,_ the other half isn't here as well, and they don't somehow end up in the same inn with me.

So my 'posse' grows, with a gangly rogue and statuesque warrior flanking me. Soon I'll have a crabby hunter in tow, because once I collar that nincompoop Roznik, I'm dragging him back home. This has been a collossal pain in my ass. Maybe I'll be sympathetic when I finally get a hold of him. I don't know. We'll see. If one more person calls me names, though...


	30. Will Day 28 Never End?

They're like an old married couple, those two. If I have to hear one more time how the Valley of Spirits is a much better and more relaxed place than the Valley of Strength, or that Mister Bald-and-Ugly doesn't want me wandering around the entire city getting into trouble, or there aren't refreshing little streams and ponds in the dusty, crowded Valley of Strength, or that Chief Paranoid Delusions wants to keep a close eye on my activities...

Shut. The. Fuck. _UP_.

I am now sitting at a table in _The Broken Tusk_ , nursing a beer or something, doing my level best to ignore Drizzul and Korky's attitude problems. I'm about to wander back over to the bar and have a chat with Morag the harrassed barkeep. Or maybe Gamon, sitting by himself in a sullen cloud of pissiness, just waiting for the next group of retards to waltz in and pick a fight with him.

But good god no. There's my _oath_ to consider. Wouldn't want anyone to think I was trying to break it so soon.

Garrosh was his usual hospitable self when he _finally_ saw fit to grace me with his brief and thoroughly whacked out attention. He was informed of my impending arrival, and probably hid the family silver or whatever orcs do when they see a threat coming down the pike. Since the threat is in the form of a womanly orifice of warmth, moistness, and extreme pleasure, he probably put his chastity belt on and threw away the key. He seemed to find it hilarious that I was 'invading' his seat of power because some troll had twisted drawers over something I did.

Garrosh: You mean to tell me you offended a troll, and now you're chasing him down to grovel?

Me: [rolls eyes] Not _exactly_. He's my translator, and if he doesn't get his ass back on the job, I won't know what's going on around me and hell, I might shoot the wrong guy. You just never know.

Garrosh: I'm still trying to figure out how you could offend a troll. What the hell did you do?

Me: Oh, you know. Little bit of this. Little bit of that.

Drizzul: She done fucked his enemy, mon. Got caught wit'her pants down. [snicker]

Me: When I want your help, Droolz, I'll ask for it.

Drizzul: [narrows eyes but shuts up]

Garrosh: [laughing too hard to speak]

Me: All right, that's enough. Can I go find this dweeb or what?

Garrosh: [wiping tears] How long will you need? I don't want you in my city longer than is absolutely necessary.

Me: Come on, Garrosh. It's not at all like I could hurt someone. My weapons are all in a crate at the flightmaster's booth.

Garrosh: It has been my experience that Alliance scum don't require weapons to do their work.

Me: Oooo, don't look now, Garrosh. My vagina is locked and loaded. Better dive for cover.

Eitrigg: [snicker]

Garrosh: [fuming] It is not your... That does not worry me.

Me: Then what the hell is your _problem_? I haven't even _once_ killed a member of the Horde. I haven't so much as slapped one across the face, and believe me, this city is overflowing with people who've been asking for it ever since I arrived. I know you have issues with Varian Wrynn, you have issues with humans, you have issues with barbers and people with common sense in general, but give me a flippin' _break_. I... am not... with... the Alliance! Okay? They can all collectively fuck themselves! How much plainer do I have to get? Do you want me to swear an oath?

Garrosh: What oath would have any meaning for someone like _you_?

Me: How about this, since it's high on your list of dangerous weaponry. I swear to you, in front of all these witnesses, that I will shut down the use of my vagina for entertainment purposes for a whole _month_. Nobody gets to play with it, _not even me_. Does that sound good enough to you?

Garrosh: [stunned speechless]

Eitrigg: [still snickering behind his hand]

Drizzul: Yuh serious 'bout dat, mon?

Me: Deadly serious. No hanky panky. Zip. Nada. If you want, I can throw in kissy-face. None of that, either. For a _month_.

I hate my life, really. Naturally, because it was ridiculous and stupid to begin with, Garrosh jumped on my 'oath' and now I'm stuck. I think I can go that long without a snog or a snuggle. I think. It's not like I'm actively in a relationship where cozying up to someone is on the books. It might make that putz, Roznik happy, too, knowing I won't be after his Italian pasta friend. Ziti? Zuti? Zit-face? Whatever.

Just so long as no red-heads show up, I should be able to manage. Then maybe Garrosh will relax a little. Here's hoping.


	31. FINALLY Day 29: Remembering Old Friends

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 1** _

This morning, I got to meet a mutual friend. It was the weirdest thing ever, because unless it's a troll, I don't know a hell of a lot of people in Orgrimmar or the Horde in general.

And no, it wasn't the Draenei half of the Draen-orgen. The guy with the Earthen Ring didn't stay in the city overnight. Dodged _that_ bullet.

Anyway, first thing this morning, I'm nursing a mug of what I suppose is 'refreshing spring water,' but tastes more like the kind of crap you pump out of the ground in the countryside. It even had a sulfury smell to it. Ah, good times. Good to know Morag's such a nice guy, he gives the best of the best to the non-Horde customers. Asshole.

Digression. Back to the matter at hand. There was this really bitchy orc woman who blew in for a cold one this morning, telling about everyone who'd listen, and most of those who didn't want to, that she had some dumbass guy to bail out and it was the height of inconvenience for her. And here's where it gets weird.

She sort of scanned the bar rather dramatically, probably looking for sympathetic eyes, and landed on me sitting at a table with Drizzul and Korky. She got a surprised look on her face, then went even _more_ green in the face. Before I knew it, she was stomping over to our table and glaring down at me as if it was all my fault that her life sucked.

Orc: Who are you?

Me: Uh... Karie. Is there something I can do for you?

Orc: What is a human doing in Orgrimmar?

Me: Well, I was thinking about having a beer...

Orc: How long have you been here?

Me: Um... in the city, just since yesterday.

Orc: You, troll. What is she doing here?

Drizzul: She be huntin' down anudduh troll. Ah be helpin'er. What bidness is it uh yuhs, eh?

Orc: A troll? Not... an orc?

Me: Not today, no. Pretty much just a troll.

Orc: Do you know an idiot orc named Fentulk?

Me: Yeah, of course I do. I met him on _The Maiden's Fancy_ , coming over here from Booty Bay. Is he a friend of yours?

Orc: [smirks] Of course. And I suppose you used his influence to ingratiate yourself with the Horde, did you?

Me: [confused] Um... I'm sorry, but I have no idea what the hell you're talking about. I haven't seen him or spoken to him since that trip.

Orc: This is rich. I never imagined, when he told me of his fetish, that I'd meet the one who inflicted it upon him.

Me: Uh... 'fetish'?

Orc: That ignoramus. Tell me, when you were quite finished with him, did you have any idea what would come of it?

Me: [exchanging bewildered looks with Drizzul] Just out of curiosity, are you drunk? Or high?

Orc: Your stupid lover has only developed an insane lust for human females, thanks to you. And that lust put him in an Alliance dungeon for _weeks_. Now he wants my help to rescue him and some tart he picked up. All because of _you_.

Me: Is he okay? Do they still have him? What's going on?

Orc: [rolls eyes] Yes, the slut freed him and now he's on his way to meet me. I have had just about enough of it. An orc man of his potential quality, lowering himself with human scum...

Me: Hey, forget about that, is he okay? Did they... hurt him?

Orc: Yes, yes, they tortured him quite extensively. This is Wrynn's goons we're talking about. Little wonder the whore was overwhelmed with sympathy and helped him. Humans are so weak.

I had half a mind to pop that self-centered bitch in the face. Jesus, Fentulk. Captured and tortured by the Alliance, and this is supposedly his _friend_ who can barely be bothered to help him! On the other hand, it was sort of flattering to know I'd left him with such a good impression. Of course, if _this_ was the sort of thing you got from orc women, I could definitely see the appeal of looking elsewhere for a little lovin'.

Once Bitch-Face flounced off, I took a peek at Korky, who to my mind was probably the epitome of orc women. She was quiet, and had that stern silence going on that made you either scared to death she'd blow like a bomb when she got her dander up, or really confident she'd have your back in a crisis and thoroughly kick the ass of whatever was threatening you. I sort of felt both. What was really interesting was the look on her normally impassive face, which told volumes. This fancy-pants orc with an attitude disgusted her completely, like she'd dealt with that sort of thing before and vowed to squash it like a bug whenever the opportunity arose. Alas, being in the middle of the capitol city surrounded by any number of people who'd rat her out, Korky kept her hands to herself. But you could tell she didn't want _that_ representative of orcish womanhood getting too much airtime.

At least Fentulk's alive and okay. I hope this lady he's found is 'the one' for him. He deserves that. Good guy, that Fentulk. Awesome in the sack, too. I have a feeling the woman's going to be one hell of a happy and well-satisfied gal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone paying attention, the unidentified douchebag orc lady is Ghakora, or Kora as she prefers. Fentulk of course has his own story, in which his 'friend' occasionally 'helps.' The story is called Mad Gamer Chick Fallout: Fentulk's Story.
> 
> As for 'Hell on Azeroth,' Karie's going to keep track of the days the ol' vag is on hiatus. XD


	32. More Day 29: The Valley of Spirits is the Gateway to Hell

I have, quite literally, fallen into the most bizarre world ever conceived. Not only that, it's a _small_ world, on the order of mouse ears kind of small. Who knew Drizzul was Roznik's _cousin_? He certainly never mentioned it. Just sat there with a benign look on his face, completely unphazed, while I railed against Roz all the way here, calling him all _sorts_ of colorful names.

Oh, but it gets better. Drizzul and Korky brought me to the Valley of Spirits where all the Trolls hang out, and whattaya know, there's Roznik, hanging out with his _parents_. But even _worse_ than having to meet the folks, that son of a bitch came _all the way to Orgrimmar_ for one purpose: he dyed his hair red. That insufferable _bastard_!

As if that wasn't annoying enough, his mom's giving me _that look_. Like I came all this way to beat up her son. Not that it's outside the realm of possibility at this point, but it isn't likely to happen _now_. Not with his damn dad looming over me.

Okay, here's the breakdown: Chesuk is dad, Jozala is mom. Near as I can figure out from the thick damn accents, Jozala and her sister, Ronjaty (Drizzul's mom) are with the Cenarion Circle, hence the semi-fluent grasp of Common. Ronjaty is in Zangarmarsh at the moment, doing... druidy things.

Of _course,_ since I'm a 'special friend' of their boy's, I've been invited for dinner and a sleep-over. If I know Trolls and their racial horniness, I'll likely be plopped into Roz's bed for some dessert.

But that hair thing. I've half a mind to work him up then drop the whole 'oath' bomb. Because believe it or not, I do intend to keep my word. No matter how... sort of... flippin' adorable he looks with red hair. (Bastard.)


	33. I Just Want Day 29 to End

Dinner was an uncomfortable affair, since good old dad is a war veteran and 'don' like 'lliance filt' in his house. Roznik, in spite of going to all the trouble of changing his hair color _just for me_ , didn't spare me a glance from the moment I walked in. That _cousin_ of his, Drizzul, spent the whole meal snickering every few seconds and making little asides to Roz in Zandali. Roznik just glared daggers at him.

If I thought getting nasty looks from Chesuk for an hour was bad, it was nothing to the little chat Jozala had with me. After dinner, she crooked one of her thick fingers at me and said, "Walk wit' me, chil'."

The differences between 'game' Orgrimmar and 'real' Orgrimmar are pretty profound on their own, but when you're in the Valley of Spirits, it's like... the difference between Velveeta cheese and a well-aged Cheddar. Or between Twinkies and Crème Broulé. Strolling on the boardwalks in the twilight, with what look like fireflies floating over the sparkling waterways, the last rays of the setting sun turning the cliff walls red...

Digressing again. The ride has been so fun, really. Inconveniences, of course. Annoying moments. Sort of... unpleasant experiences. But nothing _really_ awful or traumatic. I guess I thought, if it isn't hurting _me,_ it doesn't hurt anyone else, either. Jozala set me straight on _that_ score.

I can't even write down what she said, or my hand'll start shaking and I won't be able to finish. So, deep breath, because here it comes. The reason why Roznik flipped a shit over my choice of partners the other night. Why he's been avoiding me for days. Why he ran back to mama.

He had a sister.

Yeah. _Had._

It was probably one of those romantic things where she saw Zuti from across the room and fell straight in love with him. Evidently, he was a pretty accomplished Shadow Hunter, like her dad (though Jozala kind of sneered at that, so maybe Zuti wasn't _that_ talented). Very popular, from a very important family. Trolls being pretty free with their affections, I wasn't surprised that the girl threw herself into his arms and he welcomed her. What _did_ surprise me was that she didn't want to be with anyone else. I guess I just sort of had that nearly racist assumption going on that the Trolls would nail anything in the vicinity just because it's fun. There's an element of free-for-all running through them, but once they fall in love, the promiscuity stops.

Well, Mr. Zuti is the kind of guy who preys on infatuated women, taking what they offer and giving nothing back. That might have been the end of the story, and I really wish it had been. A broken heart is way easier to deal with than a broken soul.

This pile of shit didn't much care for women, but his male friends got all sorts of benefits out of their association with him. One of those bennies was a crack at any woman he thought gave it up easy. First she got pestered. Then she got stalked. It got so she couldn't leave the damn house. Again, wished it had ended there.

Jozala was pretty merciless, and maybe the anger and guilt was still there. Thrall was the Warchief at the time, and while all this was happening, Jozala was off doing druidy things with the Circle in Blades Edge Mountains. Not even in the same _world_. Leaving Chesuk to deal. And he dealt with it in the way of stupid ass men the world over. He assumed his daughter was a whore.

Maybe he didn't think of it in those terms, but he had that asshat guy attitude that if she'll do one, she'll do'em all indiscriminately. So when Zuti used his influence with her to coax her out so his boys could collect their due, good ol' Chesuk shrugged it off. Didn't stand up for her. Didn't even think what Zuti and his friends did was _wrong_.

It took her hanging from the rafters for him to realize what a dick he'd been. But by then, it's too fucking late, isn't it?

I'm still... just... furious about it. How Jozala can still be with Chesuk after that... I don't care how sorry or devastated he was. He'd never be able to say 'I'm sorry' enough. Ever.

Of course, I cried right along with Jozala over it. Imagining Roz and Daz finding their big sister in a broken pile after Zuti and his friends got done with her... it's no damn wonder he was so protective of me, and completely incensed by me having sex with that monster. More than incensed, I came to find out, and that's why the hair color changed.

Jozala: I got eyes. Yuh dun stole dat boy's heart. Now whatcha gonna do wit it? Cause dere be no givin' it back.

Me: Just because he changed his hair?

Jozala: Mebbe yuh don' see it, but he lit up when yuh come. Hid it fast, but he don' hide nottin' from his mata... Yuh fuck mah boy?

Me: No. He asked, but... no.

Jozala: Got a bit of honor to yuh, den. Don' just spread yuh legs fo' any cock yuh see.

Me: [slightly indignant] No, I... well... not _all_ the time. And anyway, it doesn't matter now. I took a stupid oath, and... yeah. I have enough 'honor' to keep my promise.

Jozala: Oat'? What oat'?

Me: [embarrassed sigh] I told the Warchief I wouldn't... have sex or even kiss anyone for a month to prove my loyalty to the Horde. Stupid, huh?

Jozala: [amused snort] Yuh mustuh been plenty bizzay fuh such a promise tuh be taken seriously.

Me: [more embarassment] Yeah... plenty busy.

Jozala: But yuh didn' fuck mah boy. Why?

Me: [rolls eyes] Probably because _he_ wanted to. I suppose I sort of...

Jozala: [smiles knowingly] Yuh want tuh be duh one in control. _Your_ way, _your_ choice. Not duh mon's.

Me: Yeah. Something like that. Then I started seeing... I don't know, it seemed like he was more interested in me than I was in him, and... I may be a lot of things, but I'm not someone who takes advantage of people's feelings. _Nobody_ I've been with since I came here has been at all invested in me, and that's been mutual. Roznik... turned into something else.

Jozala: Tell me true. Whatchou wan' wit' mah boy?

Me: Uh... I'm... not sure.

Jozala: Yuh better make yuhself sure, chil'.

Me: I do... _care_ about him. I'm a little... I guess... more attracted to him with the hair thing. He knew that was... something I like.

Jozala: Dat boy know what breaks a woman's heart, and he know what fills it. He a good boy.

Me: Yeah. That's... why I said no.

Jozala: Yuh keep yuh oat', yuh take mah boy back to the islands, yuh focus on yuh trainin'. Mebbe yuh talk to him. In a mont', mebbe yuh more'n care about him.

Me: Do you think... _he'll_ want to talk to _me_? After all this?

Jozala: [smiles] Boy's lost his head completely. Goin' to duh goblins and changin' his hair. [chuckles] He'll talk to yuh.

Me: [irony] I was warned, you know. Someone told me love would come to me. I didn't know it would be so... blue.

Jozala: [laughs] Give duh boy a chance.

Me: Well, I've got nothing else better to do for the next four weeks, right?

I'm literally worn out from this hellish day. The room I'm in is Roznik-free, but not Korky-free. I don't much want to talk to her or anyone else. Lots of things to think about. Tomorrow I'll have to corner Roz and... grovel a bit. Then it's back to the Echo Isles.

Given what I've learned, I'll just bet I haven't seen the last of Zuti. And you know? Bring it. Try and get up in my business, you _and_ your friends. Because now I know your game, you big asshole. And accidents can happen. Really big, nasty, oops-I-don't-speak-Zandali accidents.


	34. Day 30: Crow is On the Menu and It's FAB-ulous

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 2** _

Last night was quiet in the Valley of Spirits. _Too_ quiet. Excellent for thinking. And you know something? It's a good time for plotting and planning, too. Because when I had time to digest Jozala's story, and _the way_ she told it, I woke up pissed.

That woman _whispered_ it to me. She kept looking over her shoulder, like someone might hear. She never said the girl's name... _her own daughter_. Once back in the hut, she wouldn't look at her husband and acted like nothing was amiss, even though she'd cried her eyes red – well, red- _er_ – over the memory.

I wasn't born yesterday. I know a family stepping on eggshells when I see it.

As luck would have it, Chesuk left at dawn, or at least before I dragged _my_ ass out of bed, so I didn't get to have a 'chat' with him. Roznik, on the other hand, was moping around in front of the hut, tossing bits of marsh grass into the shallow pond nearby. In fact, the pond stretched under the house, which was on stilts like you'd see in a flood plain. Just like in the game. But I wasn't in the mood to compare.

Having gone outside without shoes, I sat next to him and stuck my feet in the water. It may be an oasis here in the Valley of Spirits, but it's still frickin' Durotar, and that means hotter than Hades when the air conditioners fail. I didn't say anything to him for several minutes, and he didn't say anything to me.

Well, since I was the bitch in this scenario, it was up to me to start the ball rolling.

Me: I talked to your mother last night.

Roznik: Didja, now?

Me: Yeah. She told me about... your sister.

Roznik: [silence]

Me: Um... I... am... sorry. For what I did... and who I did it with. I didn't know. Admittedly, I didn't ask, either.

Roznik: Yuh know now... Yuh know what he's like. Yuh know what comes next now, dontcha?

Me: You think he'll bring his friends around?

Roznik: Dat's what ah tink.

Me: If you thought that, why did you leave?

Roznik: Was mad at yuh... So mad. Sorry ah left yuh. It be my fault... if anyt'ing happen...

Me: No. It's... it's my fault. I've been mean to you, and I shouldn't have been. All you've done is try to help me. Except, you know, that first day and the whole... pond thing.

Roznik: [slight chuckle] Dat was foh duh 'moss'. Ain' covered in moss.

Me: [sheepish mutter] Moss, fur, whatever.

Roznik: Still don' fuhgive me fuh dat, do yuh?

Me: No, I don't. But... that's beside the point. [sigh] Now I understand what Daznik was telling me... without telling me. You're there to protect me as well as translate for me. I guess I didn't take your first job seriously enough, did I?

Roznik: Yuh don' make it easy, no.

Me: Did you know Zuti was around?

Roznik: [shrugs] He come by sometimes. He be a lousy Shadow Hunter, but a decent Pussy Hunter. Come round when duh new blood's in duh barracks, lookin' for stupid gehls tuh fuck. It's what he does.

Me: Yeah, I was pretty stupid... Roz, why did you change your hair _now_? I would've expected you to write me off and forget it.

Roznik: Got mah reason.

Me: Okay. Maybe... when you feel... comfortable, you'll tell me your reason.

Roznik: Mebbe... Yuh know, Zuti don' have red hair. He got gold hair.

Me: [stunned] Are you saying... he dyed his hair to get to me?

Roznik: Dat's what ah tink. Ah tink he heard 'bout yuh, whatcha like. Knew you wouldn' resist him.

Me: Okay, now I feel even _more_ stupid... You know, Roznik... it's not... the red hair. Not really. I mean, yes, I like red hair, but... it's more than red hair when it means something. And... that... didn't mean anything. He didn't... steal my heart. He never came within a mile of it. He didn't claim me, and he doesn't own me.

Roznik: Who does, den?

Me: Right now, me. No one takes _anything_ from me. Not Zuti, and not you. But Roznik... I may be... persuaded... to _give_... if you want to... you know... open negotiations.

Roznik: [slight smile] Ah'll come back to duh island, and ah'll translate foh yuh. Gotta get back to mah trainin' anyway.

Me: I'd like that. Your cousin has too many secrets, one of which is being your cousin. I didn't think that was particularly funny.

Roznik: [chuckles] He tol' me all duh names yuh call me on duh way here.

Me: Yeah, I figured that was what he was doing at dinner last night. You know, screw Orcish. Teach me Zandali, will you? I'm getting sick and tired of not knowing what the hell everyone on the island is saying. Hardly _anybody_ there speaks Orcish anyway.

Roznik: Okay, mon. Ah teach yuh.

After our chat, things weren't nearly as strained in the hut. Jozala even gave me one of those beaming smiles Jewish mothers get when they know their daughter just landed a doctor.

Of course, when I let Roz know about the oath, he laughed like I'd told the funniest joke he'd ever heard. _Then_ he told me he was going to have fun with this. Great. I guess the shoe's on the other foot now. He's likely going to try and work _me_ up then remind me of my oath, that little shit. Dammit!

As for the rest of the family drama, I found out that they moved to Orgrimmar only five years ago in the aftermath of the tragedy to get away from the awful memories in that village (they wouldn't say which one, so I have no idea). Scumbags like Zuti frequent the new recruit training grounds not only to sniff out potential partners but also to regale the troops with their exploits, like the crusty old Shadow Hunter lecture series we've been seeing lately.

And though nobody said it, I could tell there was still a looming cloud of comeuppance hovering over the family. Chesuk must have shoved whatever recriminations he might have received straight down the senders' throats right out of the gate.

This looks like a job for Karie the Family Counsellor. Let's throw a handful into the fan and see how far it sprays. Then we'll see what we can do about that son of a bitch, Zuti. I mean it. This is part personal embarrassment and a _big_ part vengeance for the sisterhood.

But Chesuk's house-cleaning comes first, seeing as how I'm conveniently in his house. When is that bastard coming home?


	35. The Mammoth in the Room Takes a Dump Later on Day 30

While we wait on the outriggers to stop ferrying the triumphant recruits back to the islands after their victorious Northwatch cleansing, let me set this up: Roznik's dear old dad spends his mornings hanging out by Grommash Hold with the rest of the wannabes and posers, telling stories of battles long past, how things were in the 'good old days' when Men Were Men, Women Were Women... and Sheep Ran Scared, I guess. Anyway, Chesuk has an equally decrepit posse he meets up with, they drink and reminisce, then they wander back home to see how the fam is holding up without their firm hand and wise guidance.

Imagine his dismay when he returned and saw the Caped Crusader squaring off in his living room. Well, since it was me, it was probably more like the Girl Wonder. Regardless, Jozala and Roznik must have suspected I would flip out, because they scurried to minimum safe distance, hiding behind the furniture in case shit started flying across the room. Korky, being employed in the office of keeping me alive and out of trouble, was torn. Domestic squabbles weren't in the contract, so she sort of hovered out in the open, hoping anything we launched would miss her or be big enough to dodge.

Chesuk: Yuh still here, gehl? T'ought ah sed yuh bettuh be on yuh way out soon as yuh wake. [glares at cowering wife]

Me: [ignoring him] I'm going to assume you're an honorable man, Chesuk. All evidence to the contrary.

Chesuk: [stuttering/spluttering/etc.] Ah got mo' honor in mah toot' den _all_ dee 'lliance put tuhgedduh!

Me: Good. So let's assume you recognize that words aren't swords, and therefore, I'm unarmed. Likely helpless. Probably weak and... womany. That sort of thing. Fair enough?

Chesuk: [fuming] Whatchou gettin' at, gehl?

Me: What's your daughter's name?

Chesuk: [momentarily stricken] Who to'd you ah got a daughter?

Me: I might have heard a rumor. Someone might have mentioned her. [shrugs] Something like that.

Chesuk: [glares at Roznik] Yuh tell'er, boy? Yuh tell yuh whore all duh fam'ly secrets, do yuh?

Me: [raises eyebrows] Whore? No. I wouldn't call me Roznik's _whore_. Not at all. But then... you have a real problem identifying whores properly, don't you?

Chesuk: Mind yuh tongue, gehl...

Me: [ignoring him] Why, I'd venture to guess that you might even accuse your own _daughter_ of being a whore. Oh wait! You _did_ , didn't you?

Chesuk: [quivering with rage] Yuh got no right tuh talk...

Me: [ignoring him] Let me tell you a story, Chesuk. About a father and daughter. Me, actually. My father died when I was a teenager, and you know something? When you stripped away the loss of my dad and looked at the selfish feelings, what I grieved the most for was the loss of my champion. I could count on my daddy to back me up. He defended me when I needed a defender. _He_ believed in me when _I_ didn't. He trusted me when no one else would. If someone did me wrong, he'd take my side and _die_ fighting for me. Because he was my _father_. And I was daddy's little girl until the day he died.

Chesuk: [blinking and swallowing hard]

Me: [quietly] I'll bet you blamed everyone, didn't you? It was _her_ fault for loving the wrong guy. It was Zuti's fault for abusing her, and leading his friends in the free-for-all. It was Jozala's fault for not being here, and leaving you holding the bag. Maybe it was Roz and Daz's faults for not getting to her fast enough or early enough to spare her. Who did you blame when she killed herself, hmmm? Who's fault was _that_?

Chesuk: [shaking] Get. Out. Of mah house.

Me: Your little girl. Probably looked up to you like all little girls look up to their daddies. We're all daddy's little girls, deep inside. Daddy's the one we want to please, not mom. If _he_ isn't happy with us, we know we did wrong. If _he's_ ashamed of us, we're even _more_ ashamed. If he turns his back on us, it's like the whole world did it too. If we lose the whole world... what else is left?

Chesuk: _GET OUT!_

Me: No problem whatsoever. I think my work here is done. [to Jozala] Sorry about this. You've been great, really. But... don't be afraid to say her name. Say it every day.

Jozala: [nods tearfully] Yuh take care'uh mah boy.

Me: [smiles] He does require looking after. I've got my work cut out for me. Come on, Roz. Doras misses me _so much_ it isn't funny.

Gathering up my charges, I led Roz and Korky out of the hut and through the Valley of Spirits to the elevator. To my surprise, Korky gave me one of those appraising looks when we were waiting on a free wyvern, then told me I have more honor than any human she's ever met. Huh. Must've met some pretty shitty humans. If they were from Stormwind, then yeah.

Well, I hope things settle down and Chesuk owns up to his role in the whole sordid affair. At least he thinks Roz spilled the beans, not Jozala, so hopefully he won't take it out on her. Maybe they'll talk. I hope so. Now that it's out in the open where it needs to be.

Anyway, when we got our ride, Roznik snuggled up close to me and whispered in my ear, "Her name be Suliya. Ah ain' said'er name since... we come 'ere. Feels good to say it again."


	36. Day 31: Hunting for Dummies

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 3** _

You know what always happens when you skip class for a couple of days. Yeah. As _soon_ as you get back, there's a fucking quiz.

So my boast of out-huntarding these trolls will likely not be realized anytime soon. Apparently, while my fellow hunters-in-training were beating the daylights out of the Northwatch asshats, they were learning two very important lessons: how to sic, and how to un-sic. Because I'm utterly squeamish about killing, which _I_ don't think is a particularly bad personality trait, I missed the whole thing.

But you know me, I'll fake my way through almost anything.

We worked with training dummies this morning, and I had a lot to make up. Ortezza stood there with her arms crossed, trying not to laugh. Up to this point, Zugzug has been really good at tearing anything to pieces I've sent her after, but I had to shoot it first so she knew it was fair game. Now I had to send her without firing a shot.

Not as easy as you might think.

I started out simple, just relaying the image of her giving the dummy what-for. She looked at the target, looked at me, cocked her head, and panted. Never lifted her furry butt off the ground. Okay, that's not working, how about if I imagine the training dummy attacking _me_? Again, she looked at me like I was retarded (rather like the way most Blackrock orcs look at me, now that I think about it) and didn't move a muscle. I tried a few other things and got the same results.

Finally losing my patience, I walked over to the dummy and mimed _myself_ clawing and biting it, then gestured at the target. See? That's how you do it. Get'im!

I almost thought I'd gotten through with that one, because she stopped panting and pricked her ears, but apparently that's 'wolf' for _what the fuck?_

At that point, I just threw my hands up in the air, kicked the training dummy in the crotch zone, and stomped off. Apparently, _that_ was a sufficient clue, and Zugzug leaped at the dummy with wild abandon.

Needless to say, Ortezza was less than impressed.

Round two of 'Karie's Humiliating Hunting Lesson' involved calling her off the target after she's gotten a fair number of bites in already. Happily, I got to shoot it first this time. However, it's even harder to get a wolf to _stop_ ripping something's ass to pieces than it is to get her _started_. I tried imagining her falling asleep, assuming various submissive postures like exposing her belly. Hell, I even tried to show her making friends with the god damned thing! Absolutely _nothing_ worked. And Ortezza wasn't inclined to help because I was _behind_ the rest of the class, so she told me to get my translator to tell me.

Fine. At least he's ahead of me a bit, so this'll be a no-brainer for him. I hope. Roznik's been really nice since the whole deal with his family, so he's agreed to help me after dinner.

Speaking of his family's traumas, Zuti wasn't here when we got back last night. Probably afraid of me. I'm not giving up, though. With him absent, it might make it easier to do a little recon work, interview some folks, find out if anyone else has been 'touched by the Zuti.' See if I can't get a mob of them after him, because there's nothing funnier than that.

While I don't consider myself particularly bloodthirsty, and I shuddered a bit during that scene in "The Handmaid's Tale" where the ladies tore the supposed rapist to pieces, that was a book and this is _real._ I won't be ripping his limbs off, but I'll cater the affair. Sell the tickets, maybe. Design the t-shirts. Maybe if the message is harsh enough, his little 'friends' will think twice about the part _they_ played.


	37. Troll Gonna Get His Ass KICKED on Day 31

DICK.

Huge, blue, moss-covered... I mean, fur-covered _**DICK**_.

I _assumed_ after the whole thing at his parents' house, with Roznik all snuggly on the flight back to Sen'jin, being nice to me and all, we'd gotten past him being an _asshole_. Nope. Not happening.

Evidently, that evil grin he flashed when hearing about my oath was not a joke, but a warning, and it still held. Mother _fucker!_

No offense to Jozala.

Was it _necessary_ to tutor me in hunting techniques without a shirt on? Is there some unwritten law that states 'all after dinner activities must be conducted with snug pants that hug the hips deliciously and leave no frickin' doubt as to the wearer's endowments'?

Son of a _bitch_. Under _any other circumstances_ , yeah, I'd like me some of that. Except I swore a _fucking oath_ , and he _knows_ it!

There was _no_ justification for getting so close to me, for softly touching me, for flaunting his completely ripped and hot bod in the moonlight on a tropical island... No reason for the whispering huskily in my ear, describing the imagery I was supposed to use with Zugzug... Because he apparently forgot my wolf was a _female_ and that's _not_ the kind of attack I was trying to get her to make!

You know, I could have done this _easily_. I'm not a nymphomaniac, for god's sake. I've gone a month without sex and lived to tell the tale. I've gone a _year_ before! It's not a big god damned deal. And _here he is_ , being _fucking adorable_ , _taunting_ me, flashing his goodies...

How _dare_ he? How dare he _do_ this to me? That son of a bitch!

Assnik, you bastard!


	38. Everyone's Way Too Deep into My Business on Day 32

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 4** _

Oh sure. On the training grounds, the little bastard's all business, completely professional. Total amnesia about what he did last night. I could just fucking _kill_ him.

But it gets better. One of Vol'jin's lackeys was at Grommash Hold when I swore the stupidest god damn oath known to man _or_ Troll, I'm sure, and now _every_ fucking Troll in the Echo Isles knows about it.

I can just imagine how it went down:

Lackey: Gather 'round, peoples, you not gonna be- _lieve_ what ah just heard.

Miscellaneous Troll: Anyting wit' the war goin' on? We gettin' called up tuh fight?

Lackey: Pfft. Fuck duh war. Dis is better. Crazy human. [shakes head and chuckles]

Miscellaneous Troll: What, dat Karie dat's always hangin' out wit' Roznik?

Lackey: Ya, mon. On'y she better behave herself, cause guess what she did?

Miscellaneous Troll: [hushed whisper] What she do?

Lackey: She gone and swore an oat' to duh _Warchief_ not to fuck nobody for a _mont'._

Miscellaneous Troll: [mouth agape, speechless]

Lackey: [nods] Ya, mon. No fuckin', no wankin', no kissin'... for a _mont'_.

Miscellaneous Troll: How she gonna _survive_?

Lackey: She gonna suffer sometin' awful, dat be sure.

Miscellaneous Troll: Why she go and do a ting like dat?

Lackey: Provin' loyalty to duh Horde.

Miscellaneous Troll: [nods] Dat'll do it.

Yeah. _Fuck_ you people. Spare me your pitying looks and snickers, too.

And guess what Jerknik is doing? _Hovering_. That's right. He's _always_ next to me, giving anyone who comes around the stink-eye. I thought he was being protective because of the whole Zuti thing... or maybe I stupidly _hoped_ that's what he was doing, but _no._ _He's_ _marking territory_. Making sure _everyone_ knows that when the thirty days are up, he's first in line. _He's calling dibs_ , for fuck's sake! He's _constantly_ got a paw on me _somewhere_ : my back, my shoulder, my arm, my _ass_ (jerk)...

 _God_ , that pisses me off! And it's sort of... annoyingly flattering at the same time, which makes me even _more_ mad. Damn. I kind of like being fussed over, I guess. And I suppose his constant presence has sort of made it easier to talk to him, get to know him better...

What he's told me is that he can give me what I need, better than anyone else can or would. Arrogant son of a bitch. Like he even has a clue what I need. Shit, if _I_ don't know, how can he? Jerk.

But I swear, if he didn't have a really awesome mom, I'd be kicking his ass to the curb. I mean that. Really.


	39. Going on a Flower Picking Spree on Day 33

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 5** _

I'm _so_ excited! Even if Assnik _is_ involved. _So_ excited!

Okay, training this morning was more melee crap with the spear and the training dummies, poke poke poke, blah blah blah, but _then_ Roznik tells me he's been asked to go get a shitload of kingsblood, would I like to come along? Holy crap, _yes_ , duh, whattaya _think_? Get off this island? _Yeah_. But _wait_ , it gets _better._ We're yanking the flowers out of the ground for the local brewers because _BREWFEST IS TWO WEEKS AWAY!_

I had no idea what time of year it was here. It's like Miami minus the geriatric retirees all the time in this place.

Anyway, who gives a shit. I get to leave the island. That's the important thing. Leave _Durotar_ , for that matter. He hasn't told me where we're headed yet, but apparently he goes every year with his twin, Daznik. Because Daz is on his way to Moonglade, he's taking _me_. _Tonight._ He even cleared it with Garrosh.

And here I thought he was a complete ass. Maybe a _bit_ of an ass. Bit of a _nice_ ass. That I'm going to be stuck alone with for a few days. Camping and whatnot. Likely little to no privacy...

Oh, that dickhead. I'll _just bet_ this is all part of his master plan to drive me insane. Okay, the _first_ time he gets all up in my business, I _swear_ I'll... probably... scold him strongly about it.


	40. Troll Beer is Powered by Swamp Gas – Color Me Not Surprised

Dustwallow Marsh. That's where he's taken me. We're spending the night in the 'inn' at Brackenwall Village, too. An 'inn' that looks suspiciously like a hollowed out boulder full of big, smelly ogre. I wonder if he has layers?

Still, I suppose it's tolerable. This is for Brewfest, after all. But if I thought the orcs in Orgrimmar weren't happy to see me, they're even _less_ excited about it here. Roz is _still_ arguing with the commander of this little establishment, an orc named Krog with some unidentifiable military rank, waving my permission slip from Garrosh himself under the guy's green nose and probably telling him I'd fuck him if I hadn't sworn an oath not to.

Yeah, I'm a little bitter. I've been nothing but polite to these people. When the Alliance told me to kill them _en masse_ , I refused. I got myself _arrested_ because I didn't want to hurt anyone from the Horde. Or their corporate affiliates... whatever you want to call the Blackrock Clan. I'm so _not racist_ I banged the daylights out of an orc all the way across the ocean. I banged several trolls just because they were hot and sexy. I'll bang _this_ troll as soon as the ban's lifted. I'd even consider giving Krog a hell of a good time if he'd stop scowling. Really, he'd be _so_ much better looking if he'd smile a bit.

Oddly enough, the ogres are fine with me. Sure, they're about as smart as used tissues, but it's something. If memory serves, though, I think the ogres and the orcs have a bit of... history. Not exactly friendly. So probably having a bunch of them vouch for me won't move this orc guy to tears.

And I was _nice_ as soon as I arrived, too! That's what pisses me off. I saluted him like Roz showed me, I shook his hand – firmly, not one of those dead fish sort of handshakes – and did a fair job on the Orcish greeting Roznik taught me on the flight over. Krog just narrowed his reddish eyes and _snorted_ at me, like a horse with hay up his nose.

Anyway, Roz'll get it sorted out. He's being diplomatic in a Horde sort of way. You know. Bellowing at the top of his lungs and waving his long blue arms around. The captain's just as loud and his arms are just as wild. It looks like a couple of those giant windsock puppets at a used car lot, duking it out in a hurricane. If I didn't know better, I'd say they were thoroughly enjoying themselves.


	41. Day 34 – Imprisoned by the Alliance, Day 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next few entries will be very short, as events have taken a dramatic turn. Karie's resources for keeping up her diary have been reduced to using scraps of clothing instead of parchment, straw for a quill, and blood for ink. If you've been reading the spin-off, Fentulk's Story, you'll know Varian Wrynn is a paranoid idiot even more afraid of Karie's vagina than Garrosh is. This will, of course, come back around to bite the king in the ass.

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 6** _

Witch Hill area, alliance got us – big anchor on their uniforms

held in tower – think they said sentry hill

roz down the hall – I can hear them beating him

what do they _want_ from me? nobody asked

can hear him – they _want_ me to hear

my fault

all my fault


	42. Day 35 – Imprisoned by the Alliance, Day 2

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 7** _

questioned by guy named shaw

thinks i'm after the king

read stuff from my diary – part 1 that wrynn has

thinks conspiracy with blackrock, plot against goldshire, plot against king

me? spy? regicidal mastermind? fucking insane!

won't tell me about roz – still beating him, torturing him

all day all night can hear him screaming

can't sleep, can't eat, can't _breathe_

they gave me his tusk

roz, i'm so sorry

don't take him from me

please?


	43. Day 36 – Imprisoned by the Alliance, Day 3

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 8** _

questions questions more questions

can't say it differently – _not a spy_ you fuckheads

started hitting me – haven't let up on roz

puking all the time – don't know what they're doing to him

god don't give me another tusk please please don't


	44. Saved by the Proudmore on Day 37

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 9** _

It isn't easy to write. They broke my hand. About all it can do is hold Roznik's tusk. I'm shaking so hard, all the time, but I can't let go of it. I'll _never_ let go of it.

It's quiet down the hall. I haven't heard anything for hours. He's not dead. He'd better not be dead. I don't want to have to look Jozala in the face and tell her...

Jaina Proudmore was here this morning and talked to me. She doesn't understand what's going on either, and left with that Shaw guy who's been asking all the questions. Of course, he's the kind of slimy bastard who gives the orders but doesn't bloody his own hands.

I suppose I should be grateful all they did was break a few bones and beat me senseless. Jaina made him stop his men from hurting me. I hope they stopped hurting Roz too. But I just don't know if the silence is because they let up, or...

She gave me some things to write with. I'd run out of rats, and I didn't want to tear too much more off my clothes. At least the bulk of my diary is back at Brackenwall Village. I don't have to worry about losing _that_.

Because _he's_ in there. And if I never see him again, I want to remember every time he pissed me off, every little prank, each and every word I wrote down that he said...

I can't think about that. Jaina'll be back soon. I'm sure of it. She's a classy lady. She wouldn't let this go on. She's friends with Thrall, for crying out loud. In her own back ya-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Entry ends abruptly at this point because... shit happens.


	45. No Time to Write Later on Day 37

I just have a few minutes while they get a litter ready. Quick update: Roz is alive... barely. Krog led the Brackenwall Bruisers in an assault on Sentry Hill to bust us out. The ogres just about leveled the tower. After I made sure Roz was still breathing and things had settled down back at the village, I asked Krog if Jaina... what happened to her. He said they sort of looked the other way as she ported out with some other people. He looked a bit uncomfortable about it, and mumbled something about Thrall forcibly removing his testicles if he let anything happen to her. They knew this wasn't her doing. She'd always acted fairly toward the Horde, so they blamed the king.

Because guess what? Krog read my diary. He didn't trust me, I guess, or the note from Hellscream. I bristled at the invasion of my privacy, but he did one of his horsey snorts and barked at me that if he hadn't, we would have both rotted in our jail cells. As it was, they wouldn't have even known we were taken if that 'weird hermit guy in Witch Hill with the spider eye fetish' hadn't seen it happen and risked cross-factional mutilation by informing him.

Then he sort of softened and asked if I was serious about him being better looking if he smiled more.

Gotta go. They're summoning a portal to take us to Orgrimmar.


	46. Day 38 and I Have No Idea What Garrosh's Issue Is

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 10** _

I'm completely exhausted, but at least it's over. And I don't mean the special guest treatment in Alliance hands. As soon as I stepped through the portal in the Cleft of Shadow, some of Garrosh's Finest 'escorted' me to Grommash Hold for some rigorous debriefing. And not even the _good_ kind.

At least Korky was with them. I needed a familiar face.

Garrosh was seriously agitated, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't because he was worried about my welfare. He kept asking, _over and over_ again, what questions were asked, what answers I told, what things I'd seen... I mentioned Roznik's condition, and he wasn't really interested. Just sort of shrugged it off. He kept pacing between answers, then asked the same questions again. I honestly don't know what the hell his problem is.

Krog, though. Wow. I didn't have time to jot it down yesterday, but the main reason why my diary moved him to assault an Alliance fortification was because his wife was touched by the Zuti, a few years before he married her.

That asshole gets around.

She's only semi-okay now. He said she still gets nervous when a group of men are around her. Evidently, this Zuti has a pretty prestigious family, but as yet, nobody's told me anything else. Like who would get pissed if he was called to account for what he's been up to. Krog thinks I might be the one person who not only _could_ kick Zuti's ass, I have the conviction to do it. You bet your ass, Krog. For you, because you saved us, saved _Roz_ , I'll avenge your wife. Count on it.

I'm in Roz's parents' house now, pretty much glued to his side. Jozala has been at the healing magic and potions ever since we set foot in her living room. She even called in a few friends from the Trollish priesthood to work on him. About all I can do is pat his face with damp cloths. I feel so helpless and useless. He hasn't woken up for more than a couple minutes at a time here and there. He only said one thing. Just one.

"You duh most beautiful ting ah ever see."

So are you, buddy.


	47. It's Looking Like Trouble's Brewing on Day 39

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 11** _

At what point did things change so much? A week ago, I was ready to kick Roznik's ass from one end of Durotar to the other. Last night, I slept with him.

Not oath-breaking sort of sleeping with him, but lying next to him in his bed because I just... _can't..._ let him out of my sight. I can't be away from him for five minutes. I can barely leave the room to _pee_. He has become someone... precious to me. I don't know when it happened. Where the turning point was. Or maybe it was always there, and I just didn't see it. Or didn't _want_ to see it, because _I'm in charge_ , dammit. I didn't come here to fall for...

Anyway. For some reason, Chesuk is tolerating my presence. He won't talk to me, and keeps giving me weird looks whenever he comes to check on his son. I really don't have anything to say to him, either, so it works out.

I've heard some of the things he's saying to Jozala, though. He hangs out in the Valley of Strength in the mornings and some evenings. Last night, a couple of zeppelins loaded with Tauren soldiers from Mulgore arrived and hustled through the city, heading for the training grounds outside the gates.

They're not the only ones, either. The Orc and Troll soldiers bivouaced in the city are also mustering outside the walls. Chesuk is giddy with excitement, saying things like, 'Warchief gettin' ready foh war.' 'Look like a big battle comin'.' ''Bout time we took Ashenvale for our own. Our people need duh resources.'

I'm not sure how I feel about it. After the whole Dustwallow Marsh Incident, I'm considerably less sympathetic toward the Alliance. But war is never pretty. Why do you think I've tried to stay the hell out of it? Whatever's going on, Roznik can't walk, Jozala and Chesuk are too old to fight, Daznik is too far away to be called back, Ronjaty isn't even on Azeroth right now, and who the hell knows where Drizzul's gotten to. This family, at any rate, will be fine. I'm sure of it.


	48. Day 40 Ain't What We Thought It Would Be

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 12** _

Something isn't right if Chesuk's enthusiasm for kicking Alliance ass is on the wane so quickly. He came back after breakfast and sort of bumbled around the house for a bit before finally sitting with Jozala and telling her in hushed tones – which I still managed to overhear because I'm nothing if not sneaky as hell when important shit is going down – that the troops aren't heading for Mor'shan Ramparts in the Northern Barrens. They're loading ships with supplies. Rolling siege engines into the holds, hauling weapons and explosives on board four or five hulking warships. An airship is being provisioned and readied for launch.

I didn't know what to make of it until Chesuk shook his head and said nobody knows what's going on. I thought, _what do you mean,_ _ **nobody**_ _?_ Apparently in the past, when the Horde marched to war, everyone knew where they were headed. There were celebrations in the streets, anticipating a great victory. The troops were escorted out, heroes off to fight the good fight against the enemy, etc. etc. This time, guards kept the folks _inside_ the city. Chesuk only knew about the warships because a general scrum occurred and the guards weren't quite in force enough to keep everyone in check. He was able to slip out unnoticed.

Whatever's happening, the Kor'kron Elite aren't involved. Korky is stationed in her usual place just outside the house, keeping me from blowing up the city or fucking a Horde member – _any_ Horde member, even a Forsaken if I so happen to swing that way, good god. I asked if she knew what was happening, and she pasted on that I'm-sworn-to-secrecy face and wouldn't tell me. But there was something in her eyes... Made me a bit nervous.

Roznik is lucky he's a Troll. His body is regenerating pretty quickly, so he's already able to sit up and stay awake longer at a time. We talked and... got a lot of things sorted out. He confessed that he already knew about the stupid oath before I ever told him. _That's_ why he dyed his hair.

Somehow, I can't dredge up any anger at him about it. His reasons were... okay, I guess. He did it partly to taunt and tease, but also to test me. I swore an oath to the Warchief. Maybe he doesn't particularly like the man in that position, but he respects the _position_. To him, the Warchief _is_ the Horde. If I broke my oath and had sex with him, he'd enjoy every second of it, of course, but he'd be profoundly disappointed in me. Like I betrayed the whole Horde by not standing by my word, because honor is gold in this faction.

He said that right now, though, he wishes I hadn't sworn the oath at all, or maybe wasn't quite so dedicated to the letter and spirit of the oath, because he really wants to kiss me. If I want it, too, he added. When he said that, I had flutters like I haven't felt in _years_. Like, decades. But he looked embarrassed, and not by what he said. He actually passed his hand over his broken tusk, like he was ashamed to be one down. As if I'd change my mind because he was hopelessly disfigured.

Well, you know I had to give him a hug. I never swore not to do _that_. If snuggles is all I can do and be true to my honorable word, then he's getting _loads_.


	49. Day 40: They Didn't Go Thataway

Now I'm starting to worry. Chesuk's nervousness is rubbing off on me, and Korky's rigid posture and refusal to say _anything_ , even a simple hello, is disconcerting. You've gotta hand it to the old geezer, though – when he wants answers, he goes to the top. Literally.

Chesuk took the rope bridges from the elevator towers to the canyon walls overlooking the Dranosh'ar Blockade and had a peek for himself. He couldn't make out details of what was happening at the docks, but he could tell the warships weren't heading north.

That was what he thought they'd do, what we _all_ thought they'd do. If he was after Ashenvale, and moving that number of troops, it was a fair assumption that Garrosh would transport them to Azshara and gather them at Bilgewater Harbor, then march west across Horde-controlled territory.

What the hell is _south_ that pisses him off so much?


	50. Still Day 40: You're Kidding Me

Oh my god. He's attacking Theramore Isle. I can't believe this. What the hell? _Ashenvale_ I'd understand; that whole zone has been one big bloodbath for years. But _Theramore_? _Jaina's_ house? What the hell did _she_ do?

Man, this had better not be because of what happened to Roz and me. Not even that alarmist lunkhead would mobilize the whole Horde army to teach a lesson in fair treatment of prisoners. She was trying to _help_ us. Granted, she wasn't as fast off the mark as Krog, but she was _trying_. I found out from Garrosh when I mentioned Shaw's name that the bastard's with SI:7. I hardly _ever_ heard that name in-game from the Horde side. As it is, the recollection is so vague even now I couldn't put my finger on a single quest where you have to deal with their asses. I know there are some, but... I just can't remember. Not big figures for us.

Evidently they suck something harsh, though.

From what Chesuk has been able to learn from the sketchy reports trickling in, the army was expecting light resistance and got a hell of a surprise when they reached the harbor. The Stormwind lion can be seen alongside the Theramore anchor in the much larger force. And apparently there's a strong Kirin Tor presence as well. Loads of rumors are running rampant through the city that someone tipped off the Alliance that this was coming.

Damn. I just thought of something. Garrosh wanted to know what they asked me. He kept hounding me about the questions SI:7 asked. He must have thought they suspected this little maneuver of _his_. Like _I'd_ know anything, for god's sake.

If that's the case, thank goodness I'm not the cause of the whole thing.


	51. Night Falls on Day 40

Even in the Valley of Spirits, it's quiet. I've been here overnight before, and it's like Trolls are nocturnal. The parties really crank up when the sun goes down.

Not tonight. It's like Orgrimmar is holding its breath. I'm scared. Really. The few reports we've gotten about the battle have made it sound like the Horde is losing. The reinforcements Theramore called in are just too strong and too numerous. Admittedly, the move was bold to the point of being completely stupid, but I still hate to think of what they're up against. Nobody likes to fight a losing battle.

We're all sort of huddled together in the living room or whatever they call the lowest floor in a Troll house. Chesuk keeps going back and forth between the Valley of Strength and here, waiting around for messengers to arrive, then racing home to report. He said the Valley of Strength is wall-to-wall; there's just no point in the whole family trying to go down there.

I really don't feel comfortable standing out in the open right now anyway. I'll just stay here with Roz, if ya'all don't mind. He's nervous too. And Korky... when she doesn't know I'm looking, she's got her head bowed. I don't think she likes what's happening, but she's in the Elite. There's nothing she can say or do about anything Garrosh says or does.


	52. The Skies Bleed Red on Day 41

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 13** _

I can barely write this. I don't know what's going to happen now, how this is going to end... somehow I think it's just beginning.

The airship wasn't bringing reinforcements to the fight last night, as we all sort of assumed when it fired up and headed south. No, not reinforcements. It was delivering a completely different payload.

Garrosh dropped a bomb on Theramore. Not much is known at the moment, but if Korky's stunned face is any sign of the times, it's this: the Kor'kron Elite didn't know anything about it. They are the Warchief's personal guard. In his inner circle, if anyone is. She's not standing outside the house anymore, she's sitting at the table with us, staring at nothing. She looks like a shock victim.

Chesuk was in the crowd when the first messenger arrived at dawn, and now he can't muster the will to go back and wait for more news. Nobody can speak. Roznik is holding my other hand while I write this.

I don't understand what happened, even _knowing_ what happened. A bomb fell. He dropped a _bomb_. Didn't he throw an officer off a cliff for doing the same fucking thing in Stonetalon Mountains? Was that questline only in the game, or did it really happen here? Because he _had_ honor then. Where the fuck did it go?


	53. The News Isn't Any Better Later on Day 41

We heard the cheering all the way in the Valley of Spirits when Garrosh made the official announcement of the 'victory.' But there was no dancing in the streets afterwards, according to Chesuk.

After peppering his speech with phrases like 'decisive blow' and 'broken the supply lines keeping the Alliance resistance going in Southern Barrens,' he told his people that he expected there would be mourning for the fallen. They died heroes' deaths, and we had to honor their spirits because there would be no effort to recover their bodies. But above all, it was _necessary_. The bomb was _necessary_.

Rumors are flying all over the city. Chesuk learned from some of his war buddies that in the last several days, as the plans were being laid out, there were numerous closed-door meetings that couldn't really mask the raised voices. Meetings with Vol'jin and Baine Bloodhoof. Speculation is running high in the Valleys of Spirits and Wisdom that neither leader was in favor of the attack, and tried to talk Garrosh out of it. I guess he pulled the 'I'm the Warchief' card on them, and they had little choice in supplying troops.

Roznik's furious. There was almost nothing for the Horde to gain – I mean Jesus, we've got a swamp in Durotar already, why would we want another one? Chesuk is actually embarrassed to look me in the face, after all his posturing and claiming to be more honorable than the Alliance. He actually said, and I'm not kidding, that if the Horde was losing the fight fairly, they should have pulled back and licked their wounds. Regrouped, reinforced, struck when the odds were more favorable. That would be the _honorable_ thing to do.

Then Jozala brought it home. That bomb in Stonetalon... that _did_ happen. Daznik was there. She didn't go into what he was doing or anything, but she said the Alliance wasn't going to stand for this like they let Stonetalon slip by with little retaliation. There would be a reckoning.

I couldn't help but think of a couple of bombs _my_ country dropped on the other side of my world. That show of force was to urge an end to the conflict. I'm not thinking that's what was on Garrosh's mind when he gave the order to drop a bomb on Theramore.


	54. Day 41 Still: We Won't Be Sleeping Tonight

Chesuk hasn't come back. He spent the afternoon ranting and raving, then stormed out of the house. Got himself all worked up. Now it's getting close to the middle of the night and he hasn't come back. Jozala is near hysterical. Roznik can't even make it across the room without help, and he's all set to go looking for his dad.

Korky's no help whatsoever; a couple of her fellow Elites stopped by and had a private chit-chat with her earlier, and she came away from the conversation looking like someone hit her in the face with a frying pan. She's back in front of the house and won't talk _at all_.

Believe it or not, I'm actually worried about that old bastard. I have my suspicions of where he is, and I don't think he's throwing back beers at the Broken Tusk.


	55. I Become a Resource on Day 42

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 14** _

Chesuk was escorted back to the family home this morning by a couple of the beefiest Kor'kron dudes I've ever seen. They stayed long enough to make sure he muttered something about the Warchief being right and we should all support his efforts, then they took _me_.

Roznik raised a bit of a fuss, but one flat-palmed slam to the breastbone put him straight on his ass. I pretty much urged him to stand down, jerking my head towards his dad who hadn't budged. Chesuk was _trembling_. Every inch of him was in motion, like he was a recliner on vibrate. Whatever they did to him last night seemed to have left few outward marks, but convinced him to keep his big mouth shut.

They frog-marched me through the Goblin Slums down to the Valley of Strength and into Grommash Hold. Lots of citizens gathered to watch, some curious, some disgusted, others... well, apparently too shame-faced to look me in the eyes.

You know what that over-inflated skinhead wants? Not my head or my ass, thank god, but my _loyalty_. Like I haven't already given it. But that's not all. He wants me to spy for him. He actually said that having a human loyal to him (as if) was a 'precious commodity that shouldn't be squandered.' I didn't even know he _knew_ those big words.

Now, I'm not one of those retards who's dumb enough to puff out my chest and tell him to go fuck his mom, I'm not doin' it. Seeing Chesuk quivering and wobbling like he suddenly came down with a bad case of Parkinson's sort of convinced me that Garrosh would get his way, get exactly what he wanted from me, or people I cared about would be hurt. He had something nasty done to Chesuk this time; maybe next time it would be Roznik.

So he's going to give me my first assignment after Brewfest is over. He sort of smirked and said that what he had planned could wait. The people deserved a celebration to get their minds off their troubles.

One of which, I can't help but point out, is the asshole running their faction.


	56. The Answer to the Ultimate Question on Day 42

Getting a moment to write hasn't been easy. Roznik wouldn't let go of me for a long time when I first got back from my audience with the douchebag, then he only left me alone for a half hour to write the last entry. He's worried about me, and in spite of everything that's going on, it's so damn cute I just want to think about _that_ and nothing else.

Unfortunately, I can't tell him or any of them what Garrosh wanted. I have to start hiding my diary as well, because there's a lot of stuff in here that might get a few people hauled off in the middle of the night. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the reason why Korky has stopped talking to us and won't even stay in the same room when we get to chatting is because she doesn't want to be put to the test.

That's what's going down around here. Chesuk wasn't the only one given a tour of Grommash Hold's underbelly. A couple of Tauren from the Valley of Wisdom (how's _that_ for irony) said a few things too loudly in the wrong place and 'disappeared.' Jozala heard that an Orc down in the Drag was declaring loudly this morning that shit like Garrosh pulled wouldn't have happened in _Thrall's_ Horde. The Kor'kron Elite were all over him like stink on shit in a matter of moments. He got the tar beaten out of him _in the Drag_ in broad daylight. In front of a huge crowd. Just to send the message home.

I'm starting to really think that the Horde would have been better off if the [Basic Campfire] had won the player-run election after Thrall stepped down.


	57. Beware the Ides of Oath Month: Day 43

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 15** _

Oh my god, Steven Spielberg just Po'ed on Orgrimmar. There are fat pandas _everywhere_. And I don't mean the stuffed bears, though some of the apparently male ones are a bit on the chubby side. You can't swing a dumpling without hitting one.

A little explanation: thanks to Garrosh 'The Godfather' Hellscream's ludicr- I mean lucrative career opportunity, I'm able to meander about Orgrimmar now, as long as I'm wearing this stuffy god damned Earthen Ring tabard that does nothing for my complexion or my internal heat management system, and Korky's with me. Roznik doesn't have the proper street cred to escort me around on his own.

Never mind that the Earthen Ring is almost entirely made up of _shaman_. It _did_ come as a surprise to me that _here_ , at least, there's no race restriction on the shaman class. If humans have the wherewithal and the 'give a shit about the environment' necessary, they can train as a shaman. So it's not outside the realm of possibility that I _might_ be a legitimate shaman, in spite of the wolf pet trotting at my side. Cause... it could just be a _pet_. Not like... a _pet_. Whatever.

Anyway, Roznik and I were having a... sort of... we were sitting on the ramparts overlooking Dranosh'ar Blockade, watching the soldiers train. It's really stepped up down there now that Garrosh has mooned the Alliance so thoroughly. Korky was sitting apart from us pretending to be Schultz and not seeing anything we might be doing or hearing anything we might be saying.

So we had this kind of... not kissy sort of thing going on, but... um... _nuzzling_ maybe would be the right word, when all of a sudden a load of gaudy hot air balloons appeared on the southern horizon making a beeline for the city. I would have crapped if they seemed at all threatening, but they looked like giant Chinese paper lanterns.

Weirdest thing ever, right? We climbed down to the gates and watched as the balloons landed and a ton – literally – of pandas unloaded, looking around sort of disoriented and slack-jawed in apparent awe. A contingent of Orgrimmar grunts escorted the mob to Grommash Hold for a meet-and-greet with the Warchief, then they all followed his baldness – excuse me, His Baldness – to the Valley of Honor.

Naturally, nosey-ass that I am, I led my little posse in the wake of the cute and fluffy bears. Honestly, they weren't all black and white. There were lots of earthy colors involved, and some of the gals (I _think_ they were gals) had bushy tails like... oh, red pandas, I suppose.

Roznik sort of frowned when he saw where the group was going, and we weren't the only ones disappointed that the grunts kept us from following. They went into the Ring of Valor for some weird reason. Someone said the Warchief had a 'gift' for them. Considering what he gave Jaina Proudmore, I don't think I'd be too anxious to unwrap it.

Whatever he put them through, the poor sweeties looked like they'd been roughed up when they came out. Maybe even having second thoughts about the welcome wagon here in sunny downtown Orgrimmar. I'll have to do some nosing around later today, when the excitement has died down some. Find out who they are and where they came from.


	58. Got the Scoop Later on Day 43

Roznik and I decided that, being hunters, we should focus on grabbing one of the hunters. More in common. So we went to the Valley of Honor's hunter training center. Sure enough, a couple of the cutest pandas ever were shyly talking to the three hunter trainers in the middle of the pavillion.

I sort of sidled up to one of the... gals and asked if she needed any help getting around Orgrimmar, being new in town. She blinked at me like I was the last person she ever expected to see in a place like this. I had to explain to her that, while my race was affiliated with the Alliance, I wasn't. She nodded and then looked at Roznik, who'd hunkered down in a crouch like he often does when he's bored. She'd seen his kind around, but didn't know what the race was called, so I filled her in. A look of abject terror hit her in the face and she backed up a few paces. Even Roznik was surprised.

Apparently, back in the day, Trolls were enemies of her people, and to most nowadays they're something of a 'bogeyman'. She's never seen one, her parents haven't ever seen one... but the stories live on. You know how that is. It obviously annoyed Roz to be called a 'great big sweetie who wouldn't hurt a fly,' but I was trying to reassure her, dammit.

Anyway, the scoop is that these fluffy adorables are called 'Pandaren' and this group lived on something called the Wandering Isle. I have no idea why it would be called that. So these Pandaren were, evidently, minding their own business when an Alliance airship crashed into their island, spilling Alliance soldiers and Horde prisoners of war all over the landscape. Again, don't know what the hell conflict resulted in prisoners being transported. I don't think that was made clear to her, either. The Pandaren folks helped both factions and some of them decided they wanted to explore the world these weird-looking people came from, so here they are. A bunch were more impressed by the Horde, another bunch by the Alliance.

Where it sort of goes south is here in sunny downtown Orgrimmar, as I mentioned. This little gal, whose name is Jin Que but I'm calling her Jinqies because the way she moves reminds me of Velma, told us that His High and Mightyness made them swear an oath to the Horde, just to get a tour of the city. Not only _that_ , the douchebag told them that they are _Horde_ now, which means their friends and/or family members who went to visit Stormwind are now mortal enemies. Jinqies is lucky in that her family stayed back on the Wandering Isle, but she knows at least a few with brothers and sisters who took the other flight. None of them had any idea that paying a visit would be so... permanent.

Add to _that_ the 'gift' Garrosh gave them. Turns out he heard about their mad kung fu skills or whatever, and wanted a demo. So he clustered the shocked and dismayed Pandaren in the Ring of Valor and unloaded monsters from hell on them. She didn't know what the hell they were called, but they were easily five or six pandas tall, one had two heads, another had the body of a beast and the torso of... some damn thing...

There's a chance I might have recognized what they were if I'd seen them, but I wasn't about to press this poor gal for details. She was starting to shake just remembering the fight. And it was a bloodbath. Something like thirty of them went in, and twenty came out. But hey, Garrosh was impressed enough to provide free rooms in the barracks until they found homes of their own. Thanks, dude. You're a real gem.

Another thing she was confused about was the segregation of races in Orgrimmar. I guess I never really gave it a great deal of thought. Even under Thrall, the Trolls hung out in the Valley of Spirits. If memory serves, the Valley of Wisdom had Thrall's seat of power in it, not the Tauren. And there weren't any Goblins to speak of, really. So much changed and upheaved after the Cataclysm, though. All of a sudden, space opened up wide in the various Valleys. The Tauren moved a load of their own into the Valley of Wisdom, which suddenly turned idyllic with its large pond; the Trolls sort of stretched out in the Valley of Spirits like they'd been given a bigger couch to crash on.

Now that I think about it, it's sort of insulting that the Bilgewater Cartel got their slums installed right next to the Trolls. Not that I think there's any real animosity between the races, but let's face it: the Goblins have trashed their area, and there's no real barrier between the slums and the Valley of Spirits. If the wind is right, you can smell it here. Not pleasant. While there's a huge pond in the slums, it's been ruined by an oil spill that would put Exxon to shame. And they still fish in it. Go figure.

The Trolls are _so_ deeply immersed in the natural world, and the Goblins are _so_ intent on strip mining it, that putting them in such close proximity sounds a whole lot like Garrosh's idea of a joke. _God_ , he's a dick.

In the end, I recommended she hang out with us if she'd like. We'd be more than happy to show her the ropes. And don't worry about the green statue following us around. Korky doesn't bite. Not so sure about the Troll, though. Roz, I'm beginning to find out, is a nibbler.


	59. First Brewfest Rumble Planning, Evening 43

Right about when we were all sitting around the fire chatting away, this green-haired, long-tusked Troll shows up to see Roznik. Surprise surprise, it's Ja'ron from T'chali's Voodoo Brewery! He and his boys finally got all their crap loaded and hauled down to the Brewfest grounds, and he stopped by to check on Roz. You know, since the traditional kingsblood run went so wrong.

He was suitably apologetic, at least, even though it wasn't his fault. I even butted in and told him so. The whole god damned thing wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been high on Varian Wrynn's 'most wanted' list. Roznik certainly wouldn't have had his ass handed to him in a hundred different ways.

I guess I'm still dealing with that; Roznik getting tortured because he was with me and he was Horde. I just got a roughing up; he got his nails pulled out. They punched me in the face a few times; he got his tusk and most of his bones broken. I don't know if I'll ever stop feeling like it was my fault.

Anyway, Ja'ron hadn't met me before now, and sort of looked at me funny. Then he said he'd heard about me.

I'll just bet you have.

Ja'ron: There been talk 'bout you 'n Zuti round the Isle.

Me: [rolls eyes] Is nothing sacred?

Ja'ron: [chuckles] Trolls is always in udduh Trolls' bidness. Got no secrets in duh Darkspear.

Me: Goodie. So what have you heard, dare I ask?

Ja'ron: Heard yuh fucked'im.

Me: Lovely.

Ja'ron: Dere be rumors goin' round yuh aftuh him.

Me: Look, I'm not lovesick or anything. It was a one night stand. I have no interest...

Ja'ron: Nah, nuttin' like dat. Ah mean yuh _aftuh_ him. Gonna make'im pay for what he done.

Me: [hesitant] Pay... as in...

Ja'ron: He be known. Dere be many women who want vengeance. It bein' said you gonna get it for'em.

Me: [raised eyebrows] Oh. Well, yeah. That's the plan. I don't suppose you know anyone...

Ja'ron: Course ah do. Got uh cousin out at Splintertree in Ashenvale. Always come down for Brewfest. Ah tink yuh might wanna talk wit'her.

Me: I would _love_ to talk with her.

Ja'ron: Yuh know who Zuti be, don'tcha?

Me: A dick? An asshole? A piece of shit?

Ja'ron: [chuckles] All dat and more. His fadduh be Vol'jin's cousin.

Me: [slack-jawed] No way.

Ja'ron: [nods] Mebbe he not a favored son, but he family.

Me: Well. That changes things.

Ja'ron: [disappointed] Ah t'ought it might.

Me: No, I'm not giving up, trust me. I don't give a flying fuck _what_ his family connections are. I just know who I'm going to chat with next. I'm going straight to the top.

Ja'ron: [incredulous] Yuh gonna talk tuh Vol'jin hisself?

Me: Watch me.

So there you have it. I swear to god, these people. Too obsessed with family honor and ties to cut out the cancer eating away at the foundation. Looks like the Family Counsellor hat needs to be hung up for a bit in favor of Surgeon Generallisimo. I'll have to get a message to Krog and have him send his wife out here for the festivities. I'm sure, once the fur starts flying, some other unfortunates with Zuti pawprints on them will come out of the woodwork.

But first, a little trip out to Vol'jin's lair. He's in town, so I've heard, probably still giving Garrosh an earful over the bombing. The inn here in the Valley of Spirits has an unnusual number of rough-looking Trolls outside, so I'm guessing that's where he's holed up during his stay.

Okay, granted, most Trolls are rough-looking. Since they don't have those little earpieces with a wire trailing into their collars like Secret Servicemen, I have to guess they're Vol'jin's personal guard. I wonder who I have to pester to get an appointment?


	60. Fluff and Snuggly Wugglies on Day 44

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 16** _

It's so damn early in the morning, not even the Goblins are up polluting someone else's water supply. I'm lying on my stomach on Roznik's bed. He's snoring like a rabid wolf and his hand is on my butt. Not just _on_ my butt, either. That Troll's hands are so god damn big, he can fit almost my entire ass in one. So... sort of _engulfing_ my butt.

Ever since we got back from Dustwallow Marsh, I've been right here in his bed every night. At first, it was because I was worried about him. I didn't want to be far away while he recovered, and there just isn't a spare cot or anything Jozala could muster up for me. God forbid anyone should commandeer Chesuk's precious hammock from the back porch, either. Holy crap. That stays _right where it is_. _Nobody fucking touches it_. He's worse than Archie Bunker with his chair.

Somehow, though, even after Roz was moving around more and was well past the danger point... I kept coming back. At the end of every day, I just sort of toddle after him, get undressed, put on my nightie and tuck in with him. The way his body so naturally folds forward, he totally spoons like a pro. I feel like I'm a natural part of his body... and he's sort of an extension of mine.

How the _hell_ did this become routine?

Maybe it's because he's been acting totally differently since we had our 'talk.' No, he didn't go down on one knee and declare undying love or anything. Even if... I can sort of _feel_ it in the way he looks at me, the way he touches me...

I didn't know it would feel like this. Probably why I didn't even recognize it until I was sitting in a cell listening to him... It was like discovering the treasure you'd been hunting for all your life in the same breath as it was destroyed before your eyes. Then to have it placed in your hands when you thought you'd lost it...

Believe it or not, he doesn't push it. After all we've done to each other, all the pranks and teasing, I would have expected him to work me up, drive me to the point of throwing it all away and taking him up on his offer, but he hasn't. I think when he was satisfied that I would honor my oath, he backed off. That's all he wanted to be sure of, evidently, and now he's in support mode. Yeah, he cleaves to my backside, and _hell_ yeah, he's hard as a rock all night – which gets me hot, I confess – but he doesn't even 'innocently' rub against my ass. He'll caress my body, but not for long, drawn out minutes, and not in really provocative places. He's respectful of my commitment to that oath and won't coerce me into breaking it. He clearly doesn't want to be the cause of me betraying the Horde.

I can't tell him to his face, because it's fucking embarrassing after all that's gone down between us. All the yelling and screaming, finger-pointing and name-calling... But I realized while I was listening to him suffer in that tower... that I love him. I don't think I've felt it this strongly in my entire life. Anything I thought I felt before must have been a silly crush. Ironically, I feel almost crushed by the weight of this. It's just my own stupid pride keeping me from telling him, and it's not going to hold up much longer.

But I can admit it _here_ , because it's just you and me. He'll never see this, because paranoia has inspired me to be much more diligent about keeping my diary hidden from everyone.

I love him. Oh god, I love him so much it hurts. Seeing him when Krog rescued us... so close to death... words can't describe how much that hurt. What made it worse was that if I wasn't with him, it wouldn't have happened. He wouldn't have been hurt, they wouldn't have _touched_ him. But because he was with me...

I refuse to be the cause of his suffering ever again. I don't care what Garrosh makes me do. I'll do whatever he asks. Maybe not always _how_ he asks me to do it, but I'll do it.

And yeah, I know. I say that now because my emotions are kind of raw at the moment with all this confession crap. I know that I may look at it case by case and say, 'you know, Roz isn't as important as that city, or that town, or this _world_.' But right now, that's all I can think about, that nothing is as important as him.

But I can say these things _here_ , because it's just you and me. _You_ understand.


	61. Closed-Door Meeting with Vol'jin on Day 44

Wow. Just... wow. Vol'jin is an _awesome_ guy. I don't think I've spent more than a half second in his company before, but now I think I'm gonna have to hang with him more often. _What_ a charmer. And I'm not being sarcastic. He's a flirt from the word 'go,' but it's all in fun.

Okay, first of all, getting an appointment to see Vol'jin isn't as hard as it sounds. I just walked right up to one of his Brute Squad guys and said, 'Hey, take me to your leader.' I think the fact that I had Korky _and_ Roznik backing me up sort of told him I wasn't much of an assassin. Either that or he's heard about me. God knows _everyone's_ heard about me.

Anyway, tiny detail that's utterly lacking in the game. The Troll buildings in the Valley of Spirits aren't _all_ open air affairs. They do have walls and/or curtains. Usually curtains, since it's so hot and you don't really want to obstruct the air flow all that much. But it's not like you can see inside peoples' private houses, or _fly_ into them, for crying out loud, like you can in-game. So we had a modicum of privacy, if you don't count his bodyguards. He made Roznik and Korky wait outside.

First thing out of my mouth was an apology for getting one of his people roughed up in Dustwallow Marsh for no damn reason. I may have grovelled a bit for good measure. He was totally cool with it.

Vol'jin: Nah, don' be takin' duh 'lliance King's crimes on yuh shoulders.

Me: Well, if he wasn't hanging out with me, he wouldn't be a target.

Vol'jin: [shakes head] All yuh did was come to duh Horde. Yuh just come here tuh live, not tuh tell his secrets. He got no business chasin' yuh ass all ovuh duh world.

Me: [ironic chuckle] Well, that was the _original_ reason. Guess I'm sort of doing that now, aren't I?

Then he got a little suspicious. You could see the humor fall off his face like a fried egg off a Teflon pan. I firmly assured him that Garrosh, retard that he is, didn't tell me to spy on the other leaders of the Horde; just the Alliance. If he somehow finds out about this little meeting, I've got nothing to say to him. That sort of mollified Vol'jin, but you could tell he wasn't going to be Mr. Forthcoming, like, _ever_ , because of my new job.

So of course, to kind of smooth things over a bit more, I thanked him for letting me live with his people. I pretty much gushed about how wonderful they all had been, not snidely either. Because they _have_ been. The Trolls, oddly enough, have been almost universally okay with me being there. It's the _Orcs_ who've had a ramrod up their asses about it. You know, generally speaking, because Korky hasn't given me any flak. Of course, lately she hasn't said a damn thing, but that's beside the point. Doras, my absolute favorite Flightmaster, grudgingly accepts me. Krog ended up being an all-right guy. Naturally, Fentulk was in my camp and other places I don't want to go into right now. The general, nameless citizens, though, have damn near spat on me in the streets. There are some who just avoid me, of course. Probably feeling a touch of guilt over the whole Theramore thing, even though I'm not showing any signs of being affiliated with the city. No cutesy white tabard with a gold anchor or anything. But mostly it's open hostility and murderous looks from those cranky-ass Orcs.

Anyway, I digress. Small talk and chit chat out of the way, I told him about the Zuti business. Vol'jin, like every other damn Troll in the known universe, had not only heard about my oath, but was well aware of the sordid business of me banging the Zuti, getting Roznik in a snit, chasing after him, blah blah blah... It's like there's a newsletter on my doin's or something. So I asked him point blank: Do you know what your cousin's favorite extracurricular activity is? He confessed he wasn't all that aware of what each member of his extended family got up to, but he'd 'heard t'ings.' Oh really?

Yes, he'd heard vague murmurings, but he ignored them. He explained to me, and I grudgingly conceded the point, that men in positions of power often have malicious rumors spread about them or their family members. He didn't have the inclination to go chasing down every rumor to see if it was false or true; he had to assume it was false if no official complaint was filed. To date, none have been.

Well, I sat him down (okay, we were technically already sitting) and brought him up to speed. I told him about Krog's wife, Roznik's sister, and Ja'ron's cousin. I told him that what likely saved _me_ from Step Two of the Zuti Beneficiary Endowment Plan was my trip to Orgrimmar, running after Roznik's ass. He listened, and his brow furrowed deeper with each story.

Vol'jin: Yuh got proof'uh dis?

Me: At least two of these women, I might be able to coax forward. I'm hoping that more will come out of the woodwork.

Vol'jin: What about duh t'ird? Where she at?

Me: [sighing] She killed herself. Look, admittedly, I haven't been around Trolls for a very long time, but there's one thing I've picked up on, and that is the damn near universal strength of will. Your people _don't commit suicide_. It's not even an _option_. They just don't reach bottom like that. Suliya, Roznik's sister, was destroyed by what Zuti and his friends did.

Vol'jin: [troubled] Ah be knowin' women dat been t'rough dis befo'. Dey don'...

Me: That's just it, they _don't_. To begin with, nobody believed she didn't ask for it. Second, her own family wasn't united behind her in support mode. Third, and this is the crucial bit, _nobody was willing to step forward because he's part of_ _ **your**_ _family._ I suspect the other women haven't said anything for the same reason.

Vol'jin: [slowly] Yuh sayin'... dis cousin uh mine... he hidin' behind duh family? He usin' mah name tuh get away wit' rapin' women?

Me: That's what I'm saying. And I want you to know that I'm not going to stop pursuing him on their behalf. I'm going to make him pay for what he's done. If that means a pack of women tear him limb from limb in the street... I don't want you doing _anything_ about it. Do you understand me?

Vol'jin: [arched eyebrow] Ah, now yuh tellin' _me_ what I can and can' do?

Me: Just on this one topic, yes. You can't tell me that what he's doing is something you approve of. Because the moment you do, the respect I have for you will be _gone_. I don't think you want me as an enemy.

Vol'jin: [glowering] Now yuh threatenin' me. Yuh got uh bigguh pair den duh Warchief.

Me: Here's hoping I use mine more wisely, huh?

Vol'jin: [narrows eyes]

Me: I'd rather _not_ threaten you, to be honest. I don't have an _ounce_ of power. I'm _sure_ you're not afraid of Garrosh, that big tool. Like I have enough pull with him to make your life miserable or something. No, I'm not threatening you with _that_. But I might let it slip that you support Zuti. That yes, he _does_ do _everything_ in your name, with your blessing. I think that'll put all those rapes on your doorstep. Not something you want?

Vol'jin: [glaring] No. Not what ah want.

Me: Then turn your back on the son of a bitch. As far as I'm concerned, having something like _that_ in your family does it no good.

He sort of paused for awhile and gave it some thought. Yeah, I pretty much punched the leader of the Darkspear Trolls in the gonads, figuratively speaking, but he's a tough guy. He rolled with it. He asked if I was going to go after Zuti at Brewfest in a couple of days, because the bastard's always there, every year. I said yes, that was what I was thinking.

Then he dropped a bombshell on me that I _wasn't_ expecting.

Vol'jin: Mebbe ah help yuh.

Me: I don't want to put you in an awkward position, Vol'jin. All I want you to do is... not kill me. And don't punish these women. They've already suffered enough.

Vol'jin: Nah, ah don' mean dat. And ah ain' gonna punish nobody. Tear'im tuh pieces; he earned dat. Ah mean, mebbe ah stand by yuh.

Me: Really?

Vol'jin: [nodding] Mebbe ah do dat. Because yuh right. If duh boy be doin' dese t'ings, he ain' one'uh mine. And if he be doin' it in mah name, den he goin' _down_. Ah won' be havin' dat.

Me: Vol'jin, you are a prince among men.

Vol'jin: [grinning] Yuh just sayin' dat cause ah got red hair.

Me: [rolling eyes] Oh, now _that_ cuts deep.

Vol'jin: [chuckling] Don' worry. Ah not be takin' yuh up on dat. Ah know yuh belong tuh Roznik.

Me: [awkwardly] I... wouldn't say I _belong_...

Vol'jin: Yuh do. Ah can see it in yuh eyes when you talk of him. Yuh belong tuh him. Yuh give yuhself to him. Maybe yuh not be matin' wit' him right now, cause'uh yuh oat', but when dat time is up... yuh be makin' him one happy Troll. [wink]

Smart-ass. So anyway, not only do I have a couple of ladies coming into town for the First Annual Brewfest Zuti Beat-Down, it looks like Vol'jin will be looming over the proceedings and supporting the blood-letting. _Damn_ , I love Trolls!


	62. It's a Damn Small World of Warcraft, Let Me Tell You

Here in the Valley of Spirits, where the Trolls live to party and party to live, there's just no hiding a damn thing you're doing. I had Roznik pen a few letters to our friends who'd experienced Zuti's extra special Lover's Rewards Program, urging them to come one, come all, to the Brewfest Smackdown happening _Sunday, Sunday, Sunday_! He's putting the letters into the mailbox where... some sort of magic happens. Honestly, I've never really asked about the mail system. I think there are little mail gremlins in there. Probably look like warlock imps and use wormhole technology to get the letters distributed. I have no idea, and it really doesn't matter at the moment, because a Troll woman came up to us and asked if I was Karie.

Uh, yeah. The only known human in a city full of Orcs. Well spotted.

She kept looking nervously at Roz, and I figured it was time for 'girl talk,' so Korky and I took her aside. We left the hulking 'boy' to his own devices. I'm sure he did fine.

Long story short, this lady's little sister was one of Zuti's victims. In fact, she was his and his friends' celebratory nail after the bombing. Odd thing was, the poor gal never was involved with him before; she didn't date him, certainly didn't bend over for him. She just happened to be 'handy,' I suppose. Tells me the bastard is getting a bit more cocky, so to speak. Either he decided his buddies didn't need him to taste-test the ladies first, or misplaced affection for his skanky ass was no longer required.

Well, if you don't think I got this woman to jot off a quick note to her sister, you're high. I told her to have little sis wipe her eyes and put her revenge pants on. I think revenge pants would be clamdiggers, you know? Keeps the hems from getting bloody. And of course the shoes would have to be flip flops because you can't get blood stains out of leather very well.

When we were alone again later, Korky asked if I was going to have at the guy. First of all, I about flipped because she _spoke_. That woman has been utterly mum for _days_. I almost felt bad when I told her I'd just be sitting on the sidelines with good old Vol'jin, sharing an official Brewfest pretzel. But she nodded, like that answer satisfied her. I thought it was an extremely weird exchange.

Oh well. Night's coming on, and you know what that means: curling up with a smokin' hot Troll. Okay, so I can't have sex with him, but do blowjobs count? I don't think Clinton thought they did. And you know, if the leader of the free world excludes fellatio from the Acts That Constitute Cheating On Your Spouse, and it doesn't involve my scary vag _at all_ , then the leader of the Horde can suck it. Figuratively, of course.


	63. Dragging Ass Around the Drag on Day 45

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 17** _

Just for fun, Roznik took me on a stroll through the Drag this morning, likely out of gratitude for my determination last night. He is not a small guy. Way, _way_ more than a mouthful. It was actually kind of funny, because he was trying very hard not to let on that anything... naughty was happening in his room. His toes were curled and he was pounding the mattress with his fist the whole time. Of course, _I_ left the party unsatisfied, but I'm what, thirteen days away from getting my cookie? Baker's dozen, if you please. And yes, I _will_ eat them all in one sitting. Watch me.

Korky trailed along behind us through the shops; of course, she didn't say anything. I swear, I am going to get that woman plowed at Brewfest this week; maybe she'll talk _then_.

News flash! Keg tapping is tomorrow. I can't _wait_ to hear what Garrosh has to say to the party-goers coming in from all over Azeroth to ride racing rams, chuck mugs at Dark Iron dwarves, and eat/drink until they puke. I'm certain to get at least a small mention so the attendees don't _immediately_ get it into their heads that I'm an extremely tall and svelte dwarf in need of a pounding.

What's got me worked up is that I really don't know what to expect, other than a wall of pissed Orc looming over me, or more likely _rolling_ over me like a green zamboni. The game has these fun little mini-games you can play, like riding the rams all over town and shooting invisible pink elekks with a ray gun. Will I get a wolpertinger pet? That's what I'm wondering. Speaking of which, where _are_ all the pets? There are like _no pets_ , other than hunter-trained pets. I'm not seeing _anyone_ with an oozling or a phoenix or a dragon whelp or _anything_. On the other hand, the ground is crawling with lizards, snakes and rats. Good grief.

I _have_ seen cages, though. The guy who sells bags and 'adventuring sundries' has a selection of various cages from basic wooden ones to more secure metal ones. I asked what those were for, and he told me they were for catching wild beasts.

Right. You know, these cages are maybe just big enough to squeeze Zugzug's furry ass into, and not much else. I don't know what the hell kind of wildlife is worth catching that's small enough to fit in one of those things. Certainly nothing you'd want to eat unless you were stranded on a desert isle. Know what he said? Well, after he laughed at me like I was dumb, he told me to have a chat with Varzok up on the flight mesa. _He'd_ give me the scoop. Uh huh. Right. Maybe later, dude.

So back at the homestead, I've spent most of the afternoon trying to figure out what I'm going to wear to Brewfest tomorrow. Keg tappings only come once a year, you know. And since I'm going to have the entirety of the Horde staring at me with jaws gaping, I'd rather it be because I look hot and sexy, not because they think I'm the most temptingly realistic target dummy they've ever seen.


	64. Day 46: TAP THE KEG, FOLKS, IT'S BREWFEST!

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 18** _

Christ almighty. If I'd known how close we were to Brewfest, I would have said a week. No sex for a week, Garrosh; will that satisfy you?

I have _got_ to fuck that damn Troll. I mean it. I thought I'd be able to hold out for a month, but he is _luscious_ , he is _needlessly_ flirtatious, he whispers in my ear at night all the things he wants to do to me... Making me whisper in _his_ ear what _I_ want to do to _him_...

Last night we had a competition that left us both panting and had him spending the rest of the night out on his dad's hammock just to get some fresh air. Roznik's entries introduced kink, and damn, I didn't realize I'd been repressed enough by my oath to look at bondage as a real possibility.

Me: [sultry voice] As soon as the sun goes down on that last day, Roz, I wanna lick you all over.

Roz: [uber sexy Troll voice] Nah, mon, yuh can do dat now. What we gonna do is put yuh on yuh back wit' yuh legs open wide. Gonna see how far ah can get mah tongue in dere.

Me: [shivers] That sounds like a plan.

Roz: Yuh ain' gonna wanna get up for a week. Ah be in yuh so deep...

Me: ... I'll have to swallow for you get back out? [smirk]

Roz: [chuckles] Yuh swallow now.

Me: Tease. I want more than that. I want to ride you. I want _you_ lying down taking it like a man. I want...

Roz: [shakes head and grins] Nah, yuh ain' gonna do dat. Yuh suffer enough. Dis be for _you_. Mebbe ah tie yuh to mah bed, eh? Mebbe ah get ropes round yuh wrists like dis. [gently puts my arms over my head] Mebbe ah set yuh legs like dis. [raises my knees and spreads them wide] [growls lustily] Mebbe... ah use _dis_ sometimes. [strokes inner thigh with one thick finger tauntingly]

Me: [breathless] Maybe you'll have to tie me down _now_ , you bastard!

Roz: [chuckles] Less dan two weeks, mon. Den ah be all up in yuh like ah got a purpose.

So... whoa. I'm not sure I can lay down next to him tonight after _last_ night. Talking about hot sex is almost as awesome as _doing_ it. I swear, being with him just about makes me come without anyone touching the vag.

This morning, Garrosh did the tapping thing at the Brewfest grounds, kicking things off. He _glared_ at everyone, which could have been his natural expression, or the relentless sun overhead, or the fact that people around him were in a good mood. Hard to say. As expected, though, he told all and sundry that I wasn't hanging out for target practice, _yes_ , they'd have to be nice to me, and _no_ , 'because I was drunk' would not be admissable in a court of law.

I would have _liked_ to wear something drop dead sexy for the tapping, but even if I had the duds, I'd _still_ be obliged to wear this ill-fitting, nasty brown stain called a tabard.

I'm _so_ glad the goblins running this thing are wearing stupid-ass Dwarf masks. First thing I did was chat one of them up and yeah, he gave me a net launcher and sent me off after Wolpertingers. Jesus, I can't wait to get plowed.

And I mean _drunk_ at the moment. Later on tonight, I'm sure I'll be begging to get plowed in another way.


	65. Dark Iron Dwarves Suck Balls

I'm wasted beyond my ability to navigate. Roz had to carry me to a quiet little spot far from the booze tents. Almost none of my cognitive functions are operating. As it is, this quill sort of looks like one of the weird chickens from the Goblin starting area that you have to attach rockets to.

It isn't, I'm pretty sure. It would probably put up more of a fuss if it was.

Turns out, the Dark Iron Dwarves do indeed crash Brewfest, but not nearly as often as in the game. And they use those tunneling things too. I stood next to the T'chali booth and emptied what feels like _hundreds_ of mugs before chucking them at Dwarf heads. Unlike the game, though, they didn't just disappear after we bounced crockery off them. By the time the 'assault' was over, there were about... I don't know, a hundred conked bodies strewn about the grounds in various states of disrepair. Not _all_ of them were downed by mugs, though. Several drunk Orcs waded in with axes and swords, so there are also a bunch of body parts with no clear owner in amongst the general debris.

I really wish I could give a shit, but Roznik is taking full advantage of my paralysis. I don't even care that any minute now, a staggering festival-goer could walk past this little hollow and see what he's doing. Yeah, them's my tits, folks; deal with it. Sure, there's a Troll attached to them. I _did_ notice, thanks for asking. Nope, not really worried about it. This sort of thing happens a lot. You get used to it. As long as he doesn't mind me using his head as a writing surface...

Ah fuck... I think a Wolpertinger just hopped by...


	66. The Riding of the Rams on Day 47

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 19** _

This place is _crawling_ with Horde. I mean it. I'm even seeing Forsaken, and those sick bastards don't hang out on this side of the world nearly as much as I thought. At least, I haven't seen very many of them in Orgrimmar. I can't help thinking it's because Sylvanas has been on the outs with Garrosh ever since that whole mess with Gilneas. What with her roaming the countryside, killing folks just to raise them. I mean, honestly. 'Because we can't breed' is your excuse, you sick bitch?

Of course, color me surprised that Garrosh actually drew a line there. I overheard someone with only half a lower jaw complaining that nobody informed Her Ladyship of the huge pile of bodies produced by the Warchief's little bomb thingy until _after_ the Alliance cleared them all away for proper burial. Gee. Sorry about that. Must've slipped his mind. Twats.

Do _not_ ask me how the S.O.B. was able to speak with only half a lower jaw. The Forsaken are... weird.

Anyway, I shouldn't kvetch. I am... marginally sober and nursing a very sore backside. And not because in the absence of vag-play, we went anal. I gave the ol' racing ram thing a try this morning. _And_ I got Korky to do it with me because I'm supposed to have an escort at all times and the minute I mentioned 'rams,' Roznik sort of faded into the crowd. Chicken.

Here's the surprise, though. When the goblins fling a keg at you, it doesn't disappear into your backpack. It's about ten pounds of barrel that is probably three quarters full of something (I hesitate to imagine they'd use real alcohol – such a waste), and the bastards throw it at you hard enough to knock you off the ram. You are definitely at full gallop the whole time, so in the midst of trying to keep the damn ram pointed in the right direction and dodge people milling around (because ain't nobody gets their drunk ass out of the racing area), you have to _also_ catch a loaded booze bomb without dropping it or getting dropped yourself.

Good news is the rams don't fatigue like they do in the game. No worries about doing drive-bys on apple barrels. Bad news is that the bastards are _fast_ , bumpy, and pissy. Bumpy does not help you when you're off-kilter with a barrel under one arm and trying to steer with the other. Pissy does not help you when you're trying to achieve balance after ten pounds of hard-to-grip barrel just hit you in the chest.

 _Then_ you have to launch the bastards at the guy on the other end of the track. First time I actually made it (took me a couple of tries just to receive without killing myself), I threw the barrel _and_ myself at the goblin catcher. I think this is where being drunk and floppy would have been helpful because that landing was harsh. The goblin didn't like it much, either.

Now, Korky rented her ride to be a good sport about it, but one cold look made the goblin save his throw for the next guy.

Unlike the 'do as many as you can in under five minutes,' it was 'do five as fast as you can cause I'm timing your ass.' And not _stopwatch_ timing, either. The rams were _summoned_ for a short period, and would automatically _un_ summon when the time ran out. So if you didn't get the five in there, you'd find yourself carried headfirst into a prickly cactus, because that's physics, man. Inertia: _catch it_.

So sore ass, and still picking needles out of my hair. Korky helped me out with the ones in my face, bless her heart. The cool thing is that on the third relay, I caught a glimpse of Kuadanath over by one of the booths. As soon as I track down Roz, I'm going to introduce them. I'm not seeing Brahm, but maybe he's off shooting eleks or something.

Oh, and my Wolpertinger is _adorable_. I'd cuddle him, but his antlers get you right in the eye.


	67. The Sucking of the Ass, Later on Day 47

Not gonna lie. Sometimes I should really just let it go and not track down old friends. Even if I see them throwing back cold ones at a booze festival. _Especially_ if I see them throwing back cold ones at a booze festival.

Ku didn't want to talk, and I should have left her alone. I should have minded my own business. Then I wouldn't feel like shit now.

Here's the thing: Garrosh kept so much under wraps about the battle at Theramore that folks just sort of... forgot about it. Timing the attack right before the big 'fuggeddabout it' holiday was likely intentional. I never even went looking for the veterans of that event. I suppose it never occurred to me, since I know so few Horde members. I didn't know Ku and Brahm were _there_.

I guess I didn't know just how close they were, either. Ku and Brahm had some kind of spell put on them years ago so they could communicate over long distances. It was probably part of the tauren version of a wedding ceremony. They shared thoughts and feelings and love through that connection, she said. So when the bomb fell, she felt it when Brahm died.

She told me, in a low voice that was beyond grief and had reached the point of indifference, that she felt like part of her died with him, and now she was just waiting until she followed him to the Earthmother's embrace.

Ku was part of a small party that was supposed to get some poncy Blood Elf out of the slammer inside of Theramore while the main force, which Brahm was in, tried to take the primary objective. 'Primary' as far as _they_ were concerned, at any rate. Evidently they didn't get the memo that they were only there to attract as much of the Alliance as they could for the _real_ show.

I just can't get my head around it, and Ku only knows about it because Belfs have loose lips and a tendency towards unapologetic snarkiness. Once they got to him in the fort's basement and killed or subdued the guards, the guy summoned a portal to Orgrimmar, gave them the 'you'd best be gettin' your ass outta here before it gets fried' speech, then sent them on their way. He didn't follow them, though. She said that after she went through, she looked back and he seemed interested in one of the guards they'd bonked unconscious. She didn't know what to make of it because he slammed shut the portal. He didn't resummon one and she's not heard a thing about that asswipe since.

Of course, she checked on Brahm, wanting to know if he was aware of the bomb and if the troops were falling back. It came as shocking news to him. Ku said there was panic in his thoughts, and she could tell he was trying to get his commander to call a retreat. They must not have believed him, or they'd run out of time. Minutes later, she said, her world ended.

That wasn't quite the end of it, though. Ku went back there a couple of days later, to see. Just to see. She said it looks like the crater left behind when Dalaran was scooped out of the earth. What's left of the city's already been abandoned. Theramore was on an island of sorts, accessible by bridges from the mainland of Dustwallow Marsh. She found a new cemetery close to that bridge. Just... hundreds of graves. But not enough to even cover the number of Alliance dead there must have been. For the rest, there were just markers. Stakes driven into the ground with names on them. She looked hard, but didn't see anything that looked like a Horde member's name. She said she'd really hoped to find _something_ of his. Even if it was just a piece of armor or some trinket he carried all the time. Something.

No bodies were left in the ruins; no citizens were still hard at work carting away the dead, even. Ku found out later that the kind of bomb Garrosh ordered built didn't _leave_ bodies behind. If you got caught in the blast, you were incinerated. Garrosh had said we wouldn't be begging the Alliance to return the Horde dead for proper honors; there were none to recover.

And there were no 'veterans' of that battle because they were all at ground zero, surrounded by the Alliance. Baiting the trap.

I'm sick to my stomach. Really just... sick. Roznik listened to this and looked like he was trying really hard not to cry. Korky... ah man. She walked away from us. Just turned around and walked away about thirty or forty yards. I could see her head bowed and her shoulders shaking. I was reminded that she knew some of it, but not all. Maybe she knew some soldiers who went and didn't come back. Maybe she thought they died honorably in battle, not blown up by their own Warchief.

To get this story out of Kuadanath, we had to take a pretty long walk away from the festival. She'd been informed that one peep about what really happened would get her and the others with her in a heap of trouble. The thing was, she had stopped caring at some point over the last week. She wasn't putting ads in the local gazette or making big announcements in front of Grommash Hold or anything. She just didn't care. When Korky came back over, looking pretty sniffly still, Ku just gave her a steady look. Daring her to carry out the Warchief's orders and arrest her for having a big mouth. Maybe _wanting_ her to.

Korky looked her in the eyes – which is an amazing feat, considering Ku is about nine feet tall – and said one thing. " _Fuck_ him."

Amen to that.


	68. Front Row of the VIP Box with Vol'jin on Day 48

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 20** _

Needless to say, after hearing Ku's story, I was a bit on the 'fuck you' side this morning. Maybe a little reckless and pissy. Whatever. My _homegirl_ , Garrosh. I meant it when I said you fuck with _her,_ you fuck with _me_.

But then, I'm not stupid. About _that_ , anyway. I'll remember it, though. Count on it.

As I sit here in the Valley of Spirits, I find myself rather quiet and calm. Maybe a little cold. Not in the temperature sense, though.

Well, everything came totally together in one of those poetically beautiful coincidence-riddled things at first light this morning, like the gods of Azeroth were checking their watches going, 'All right, we've waited long enough – get on with it.' First, Krog located me and I got to meet his wife, Ushka. She had that shifty-eyed look about her that said, 'Too many men-folk about.' Wrenched my heart. I wanted to give her a hug, but the poor woman looked like any kind of body-hold scenario – from anyone but Krog – was off-limits. Turned my stomach a bit, that an Orc woman like Korky would _ever_ be taken down like that.

The Troll woman I met a couple days ago was there with her baby sister, looking even _more_ don't-touch-me than Ushka. I about puked; the girl looked like she couldn't be more than fourteen. But she was wearing clamdiggers. Best kind of revenge pants _ever_.

Ja'ron ponied up with his cousin, too. One Saonji, who looked like the kind of gal who'd kick your ass for shifting her things an inch to the left on her dresser. And you know something? Ja'ron was totally right about there being a load of women who would show up for the beat-down.

There were about two dozen of them in all, sort of coming at me like a pack of pissy estrogen looking for a target. They seemed to think that I had something planned for _today_ out of all days. I didn't realize their mobilization was because Zuti was in duh house.

I almost didn't recognize him because his hair was back to its apparently 'normal' gold. He was laughin' it up with his buds in the middle of the Brewfest grounds. Probably making plans for later, the slimy piece of shit.

That big nasty grin slid completely off his face when he saw the mob coming at him. The fact that they _strolled_ toward him en masse probably made him more nervous than anything else. Funny thing – his 'friends' sort of melted into the crowd. Like, I don't know, they could smell an ass-kicking coming and didn't want to be hit by the shrapnel. Maybe they knew he wasn't going to be the only one taken to task for past misdeeds.

Here's the kicker. Zuti actually looked to _me_ for help. Can you believe this shit? He had that caught in the headlights and about to get mowed down look on his face as the ladies surrounded him, and apparently since I was the only one who _hadn't_ been gang-raped by him and his friends, he thought I'd be sympathetic. Maybe grant him a by. Perhaps distract his victims with a 'what in the world can _that_ be' thing, pointing in the opposite direction so he could slip away unnoticed.

Uh. _No_.

Zuti: Di'n' we have summat... you an' me? Yuh wouldn' let'em... Not aftuh you an' me... We... dere was summat 'tween us, right?

Me: You know what's going through my mind right now, Zuti? It's the fact that I have this awesomely huge, doughy pretzel, and the guy selling them had _no fucking nacho cheese_. Barbarian.

Zuti: [blank look of doom-filled realization]

Me: Until I see a bowl of melted cheese, I'm just not going to be sympathetic to _anyone_.

The ladies started pushing him around about at this point, shoving him tauntingly. He was shaking in his... uh... bare feet. Then he got this look of 'thank _god_ ' and sagged with relief. I glanced back, and here comes a mountain of shitty-ass Orc.

Ah, welcome to the party, Garrosh. Ooo, and here comes Eitrigg, too! I didn't think those two hung out socially.

Garrosh: What's going on here? I believe I made the rules clear.

Me: Oh, lighten up. It's not like they're knocking _me_ around.

Garrosh: There are _never_ fights allowed at Brewfest. Too much drink...

Vol'jin: [suddenly appearing at my back like a portal opened up and tossed him out] Dis be Darkspear bidness.

Garrosh: [affronted] I am the _Warchief_. There _is_ no 'Darkspear business.'

Vol'jin: [stepping up to chest-bumping range] Walk away, Garrosh. Ah be handlin' dis.

Eitrigg: [firmly] Better leave it to him.

Garrosh: [taking in the scene] [glaring at Vol'jin] Take it outside the grounds.

Vol'jin: Dat we can do.

I can't begin to convey the facial expressions between these two guys. Garrosh probably wouldn't have backed down so easily if he actually gave a rat's ass about Zuti or, likely, the fate of _any_ Troll. On the other hand, Vol'jin's face can put up a pretty convincing argument for backing away slowly with hands up in as non-provocative and not-reaching-for-a-weapon manner as possible.

Which is probably why Zuti didn't seem to think he'd gotten a 'rescue' when his cousin showed up on the scene.

Well, off we went, the ladies muscling and pushing and shoving Zuti all the way out to the edge of the gorge that got flooded during the Cataclysm. To my surprise, Eitrigg tagged along. While the ladies surrounded a panicked and close-to-pissing-himself Zuti, me, Vol'jin and Eitrigg had ourselves a seat under a scrubby tree and watched.

Zuti tried again when the shoving turned into punching and weapons started coming out.

Zuti: Don' let'em! We _fam'ly_. _Help_ me!

Vol'jin: Ah don' know yuh. Yuh ain' one'uh _mine_. Yuh ain' fam'ly, and yuh ain' Darkspear. Yuh _filt'_. [nods to ladies] Take back what's yours.

Let the ass-kicking begin. I couldn't even _see_ Zuti in the pile of ladies thrashing the crap out of him. Just a bunch of green and blue bodies.

Had to look away, not gonna lie. I reiterated my lament for melted cheese and Eitrigg set me up. The guy's a shaman, you see, and has some really tight relationship with fire or something. He pulled a chunk of Dalaran Sharp out of a pouch on his waist, put it in a bowl he conjured up from another pouch, then held it over his hand and quite literally pulled a small flame out of nowhere into his palm and melted some god damn cheese for my pretzel. Sweet old guy, that Eitrigg.

Vol'jin tore off a piece of my pretzel and dipped it. He found that I wasn't full of shit on this one thing, apparently, and nodded appreciatively. I _almost_ told him to go get his own damn pretzel if he was going to be having at mine, but after all... sponsoring a blood-letting like this? I think he'd earned himself half my pretzel.

It's probably appropriate at this juncture to note that Korky was at her typical discreet distance behind me, watching my back, making sure I wasn't harmed or looked at funny. Roznik, however, was out in the Brewfest grounds evidently advertising because a wad of folks started coming around and setting out camp chairs and blankets. It was like the grassy hillsides overlooking the First Battle of Bull Run. Apparently watching a bunch of women unloading some pent-up rage against a guy was a thrilling change of pace from the usual at Brewfest.

And _more_ fun arrived. Roz is apparently a quick study and has a sharp eye. He located a handful of the dudes who were with Zuti earlier and took a runner. They totally failed to outrun Roz and were now getting thrown into the pile. The ladies were only too glad to make room for them.

I confess I spent more time examing my pretzel and chatting with Vol'jin than actually watching. Once blood started to seep out, queasy marched in and set up shop in my tummy. My inattention to the entertainment I was pretty much responsible for arranging got Vol'jin curious.

Vol'jin: Why yuh not watchin'?

Me: I'm not a big fan of blood sports. I felt it was needed in this case, but that doesn't mean I have to watch. If it gives these women peace, and helps them heal, then I'm good.

Vol'jin: [nods] Yuh belong wit' duh Darkspear. Yuh _tink_ like us.

Me: [frowns] Yeah, but... limbs getting ripped off still makes me wanna barf.

Vol'jin: [laughs] Mah fuhst battle, one'uh duh Orcs ah fought wit' got 'is guts spilled. Ah t'rew up in duh battle.

Me: [shocked] _Really_?

Vol'jin: [nods] Ah wuz young. Nevuh see it b'fore. But ah learned. Yuh vomit like dat, yuh can' defend yuhself. Ah di'n' let it happen again. Yuh don' fight long if yuh tink 'bout tings like dat.

Me: I don't want to fight. _Ever_. I hope this is the end of it, and I don't have to worry about it anymore.

Vol'jin: Oh, yuh be seein' some blood. Yuh go spyin' for Garrosh, dere be blood.

Me: I don't want to be a killer, Vol'jin. I don't want it to _ever_ be easy.

Vol'jin: Yuh do what yuh hafta do. Yuh do what yuh _called_ tuh do. Yuh called tuh heal dese women, and yuh doin' dat. Dere be blood; dere _has_ tuh be blood. Nuttin' else satisfy such pain.

Me: Yeah, but... it's not on _my_ hands.

Vol'jin: Oh, it _be_ on yuh hands. Yuh called'em tuhgedduh. Yuh gave dem hope. Yuh _led_ dem. Mebbe yuh not touch'im yuhself, but duh blood be on yuh hands all duh same. Dat be duh way it is when yuh be a leader.

Me: [uncomfortable] Well... maybe I... shouldn't be a leader then, anymore.

Vol'jin: [shakes head] Too late fuh dat. Dere be people here dat gonna remembuh dis. Dey'll come to yuh. Dey'll know Karie can make it bettuh. Karie is not afraid. Karie knows what's _right_. And Karie has duh ear of duh Warchief.

Me: [snorts dismissively] I don't have _anything_ of the Warchief's.

Vol'jin: [shrugs] Yuh see'im when nobody else can. And if dat is not enough... yuh have duh ear of Vol'jin. Yuh have duh _respect_ of Vol'jin.

Me: [throat lump going on here] That has a lot more value to me than having _anything_ of Garrosh's.

Vol'jin: [nods] Yuh evuh meet Baine Bloodhoof?

Me: [frowns] No. Actually, I haven't.

Vol'jin: He be here. Ah'm sure he wanna meet yuh.

Me: [irony] Know your enemy, huh?

Vol'jin: [chuckles] Ah don' tink he see yuh as his enemy.

Me: [nudges his ribs] _You_ don't trust me.

Vol'jin: [mockingly surprised] Don't I?

Me: [grins] Well, you're not particularly fond of my _boss_.

Vol'jin: [serious again] No. No, ah'm not. But ah done some... askin' around. Talked to yuh mon, Roznik. Seem tuh me, yuh be trustworthy. Mebbe... if ah be needin' yuh... ah call on yuh.

Me: [also serious] Anything you want, Vol'jin, you _ask_. I'll get it for you.

Vol'jin: [raises eyebrows] [grins] [winks] Dat leave meh wide open. Ah don' tink Roznik be too happy wit' what _ah_ might ask for.

Me: [smirks] Well, you're an honorable man, and I don't think you'd ask for _that_.

Vol'jin: Nah, yuh right. Ah won' ask.

Me: [thoughtfully] You know, I've always wondered something. Do you have a _wife_?

Vol'jin: [chuckles] Nah. Did once, but not anymore. [sighs] She went to duh ancestors... years ago.

Note to self – get this guy another one. He _so_ needs a good woman.

Anyway, while we were having a slightly disturbing and embarrassing conversation, Zuti was getting what-for with his friends. When the ladies finally had their fill of mangling him (and it took a damn long time, let me tell you), he looked purple all over. Bruises on his blue skin, head to toe. Lots of open wounds, too. But they didn't kill him. A couple of his friends were in no-regenerative-option-available pieces all over the ground. That pretzel threatened to come up for a recount.

No, they didn't kill Zuti outright. That would have been too easy, and I'm sure they didn't think a mercifully quick death was deserved here. Because he was the _leader_. And the leader gets the biggest finger.

They staked him to the ground in the desert. They made sure he had plenty of open wounds stinking up the air for the predators to take notice. The three of his friends who survived were trussed up in similar fashion around him so they could all commiserate while the wild boars and raptors dug into their guts later on when the activities died down.

I confess, I couldn't stick around and watch even from a discreet distance, but the ladies could. They made sure no last-minute rescue came off. Probably laughed a bunch when the animals were tearing into that guy.

I want to feel remorse for the part I played. I really do. Like... tell myself that not even a shit pile bastard like Zuti deserved what they did to him, and _really believe it_.

Sorry. Can't muster it. Have I been with the Horde so long that wanton destruction is a viable option? Or do I just remember how long this bag of crap has been operating without being brought to justice, how many women he's damn near destroyed with his sick fetishes, how many _families_ have been disrupted by the seismic impact of his activities with their daughters, wives, cousins, lovers...? And maybe I feel a bit like sometimes a trial just wastes a lot of time when the guilty party has two dozen fingers pointed at him and he's not making any effort to deny the charge. He never did, you know. Not once. He wanted me to shield him, like I would. But I could tell that if he skated by _this_ little inconvenience, he'd be back to business as usual. He'd carry on as if it was just a speed bump. He'd do worse, like picking out that little girl off the street because nobody stopped him, nobody could _touch_ him.

Nope. I'm really just not in the forgiving mood today. I don't care a damn bit about how long it's going to take wild boars to eat every scrap of his ass. I kind of hope he's still alive when the raptors and boars have a fight over his entrails. Almost wish one of the girls had brought a strap-on and pegged his ass good and thoroughly. Maybe someone did; that seething mass was pretty dense. Couldn't see what was going on deep in the middle of things.

And I honestly _don't care_.


	69. And On the 49th Day, There Was Panda Love, and It Was GOOOOOD

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 21** _

After the last couple of days, it was totally refreshing to have to deal with the opening salvo of an awkward, weird-as-hell, slightly kinky love affair between Jinqies and an Orc named Grogax.

Let me set this up. I spent the better part of yesterday post-Zuti-smear in the Valley of Spirits. Chesuk was kind of nice in a 'wish _I'd_ had the rocks to do that' sort of way. Jozala nearly fell all over me in tearful thanks for setting things to rights for Suliya. She promptly fired off a letter to Daznik, letting him know that Durotar's desert sands were considerably more red than he remembered.

Oh, and Roznik got me off last night. I'm not joking. Before you start asking, _did she break her oath? Did Karie finally step over_ _ **that line**_ _and take something as big as a minibus in the ass?_ No and no. _Who knew_ that prolonged nipple stimulation was capable of producing an orgasm, and who in the hell could have imagined that Roznik would know how to manage it?

Makes me wonder what sort of mischief that boy got up to before I blew into his life. I think there might be some discussions coming up soon.

Anyway, this morning I had a bit of a spring in my step, not gonna lie. I felt like a huge lead weight had been lifted off my crotch. Very satisfying. Not _thoroughly_ satisfying, maybe. I'm still kind of a dick girl. But that got me over the hump a bit. I can weather the last week of this shit. I've decided that twenty-eight days is more than acceptable as a month. It works for my period, which has (thankfully) been regular as clockwork, I assure you. Just because I don't head up an entry with 'and today I bled like a stuck pig and had really bad cramps' doesn't mean that hasn't been going on. It's just not as fun to talk about.

 _Anyway_ , I was wandering about with my cutesy little Wolpertinger hopping behind me. I'm not 100% sure non-drunk folks can see him, but it's possible. I found out that there's a similar dismissal/summoning spell for pets like him that there is for hunter pets. Probably why I don't see an assload of vanity pets roaming about. Now, there _are_ a bunch of Wolpertingers trailing after their staggering owners, but it's Brewfest and I'm sure I wasn't the only one who got one for the first time this year.

 _ANYWAY_ , Jinqies sidled up to me and Roz (still giving him the 'ain't sure about your ass' eye), and asked if we could 'talk.'

Jinqies: [anxious] I do not know how to ask.

Me: Blurting it out really fast often works for me. Give it a shot.

Jinqies: What is... why would... an _Orc_... pull my tail?

Me: [blinks] Uh... in... what context?

Jinqies: [bites lip nervously] He just... walks up to me and... yanks it. Then he grins, winks, and walks away.

Me: [bewildered] Do you... have you met him before?

Jinqies: [worried] He... _seems_ familiar, but... [whispers] _they all look so alike_.

Me: [trying not to laugh] Well, could you point him out? Is he around right now?

She sort of nodded and surreptitiously pointed in the direction of the Drohn's Distillery tent. Wow, _that_ was helpful. The place was _crawling_ with Orcs. She had to add that he was the one wearing a monk's belt. Yeah, not working for me. What the hell does a monk's belt look like?

Well, you know me. Gotta get to the bottom of it. Once she'd all but set her Hunter's Mark over his damn head to make it clear which one he was, I made a beeline for him. At the time, I was thinking about yesterday's event and if this guy was making a move on another of my homegirls, there would be words between us.

And maybe _because_ of yesterday, I didn't _mince_ words. I flat-palmed his shoulder to get his attention and got all up in his throat because he was about a head taller than me.

Me: Hands off the panda, dude, or you'll have _me_ up your ass.

Orc: Who the fuck are _you_?

Me: I'm the gal who's telling you to stop pulling Jinqies' tail before you find some very important bits of your anatomy in a state of serious disrepair. Got it?

Orc: [sneers] You her _mum_ 'er summat?

Me: I'm her _friend_ or something. You're freaking her out. _Cool it._

Orc: [unexpectedly worried look – color me fucking surprised] She tell yuh that?

Me: Well... yeah, pretty much. Sort of. Something like that. In any case, what's the deal? Why are you doing that?

Orc: [awkward blush – holy shit!] Seen Tauren do it. Thought it was like a... a _thing_ or summat. For folks what got tails.

Me: [astonished] You're... you're _flirting_ with her?

Orc: [defensive] Mind yer fuckin' business!

Me: Hey, actually _talking_ to her might be more effective, you think? Maybe tell her your name or something? She doesn't know who the hell you are!

Orc: [slightly hurt] She don't remember me?

Me: [wrong-footed] Uh... _should_ she?

Orc: [ramming finger in my chest] Yuh tell'er the name's Grogax. She don't remember me, then... well... we'll see about that.

Then he just stomped away. I confess, I was really stunned. Going back to Jinqies, I relayed his, erm, message, and she looked like she was seriously wracking her brains, trying to remember where she'd seen him. I could see her dilemma; if you've spent your whole life not being around a particular race, maybe they _would_ sort of look a little clone-like for awhile until you got to know them better, saw more of them, started picking out the unique features... That sort of thing.

Regardless, she had a nervous and embarrassed look on her rather fuzzy face, but not a gag-me-with-a-spoon look, if you know what I mean. I asked her if, you know, the idea of Mr. Green and Grumpy nosing around her crib was okay, or one of those things that makes you shudder and go 'bluuuuuh,' and she got a really uncomfortable look on her face.

Jinqies: The... Orcs... are... an unlovely folk.

Me: [shrugs] So are humans, but _someone_ must like us or there wouldn't be so many.

Jinqies: [smiles shyly] We... the Pandaren... do not judge by appearances, for there is much more to the soul than what the eyes can see. But the Orcs... they seem... so like Mogu...

Me: [WTF] I'm sorry, I don't know what a 'mogu' is.

Jinqies: [patiently] They were once our masters, and they were cruel. They wished to conquer all before them, and I see... the same among the Orcs.

Me: Well, I suppose they do come off pretty... uh... rough, if you're not used to it. But not _all_ of them are like that. I know an Orc who was happiest at sea, and not in the context of naval battles, either. He was a really peaceful sort. I don't think he would have hurt anyone. _Really_ nice guy. Maybe this Grogax... Well, you won't know until you get to know him, right?

Jinqies: [shrugs] It is not simply the lust for battle that they share, but... the Mogu are powerful and tall. And they have... very long and sharp tusks. Very like the Orcs.

Me: [nods] Yeah, I can see where that would, uh, be a... thing. But, you know, it's all in the way you, uh, use it, you know? Listen, if you want to give Grogax a wide berth because of what you think he _might_ be like because of what he _looks_ like...

Jinqies: No! Of course I don't. That would be against all that I have been taught. It is... well... he is not...

Me: Not like you?

Jinqies: [sighs] [nods] Yes. He is not like me.

Me: [slight smile] He may be... a lot more like you than you think. How will you know unless you get to know him?

Jinqies: [blush] I suppose that would be fairest, wouldn't it?

Now, if I can manage to get a Panda and an Orc bumping uglies, hooking Vol'jin up with a sweet young, uh, similarly-aged thing should be a piece of cake.


	70. Smells Like Team Spirit on Day 50... Anbody Got Any Febreze?

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 22** _

There is no hangover cure quite so brutal as finding out that 'real Azeroth' Brewfest is more like a four-day weekend than a two-week-long affair like it is in-game. There were quite a few tears last night as Garrosh called it a 'fest and sent the drunks home. Everyone else was pretty sad, too.

This morning, the real fun began. One of Pinhead's Finest came out to the hut-stead in the Valley of Spirits before I'd had a chance to fully process the annoying arrival of the sun, and 'escorted' me to Grommash Hold to report for duty. Garrosh don't waste time, do he?

I had stupidly hoped Roznik would be my 'partner in crime.' That was his delusion as well, and he tagged along at Korky's side. Hell, I didn't even get _Korky_ as a travel buddy.

Nope, I got Mutt and Jeff. Or rather, Harag and Zatso. And I swear, if you challenge him on anything, that's his go-to comeback. 'Is that so?' Sarcastic little knee-biter Goblin. Harag is a rather nasty piece of work Orc rogue. You don't even have to _ask_ what his line of work is. He wears a cowl and all you can see is his lower jaw and beady eyes gleaming at you like some predatory cat in the underbrush. I will not be sleeping without a knife under my pillow, in my bra, and in both boots.

Both guys, too. I suppose Garrosh has lost his fear of my terrifyingly accommodating vagina. Not that it's particularly open for business now. Or... really, anymore. Which has its ups and downs, of course. I mean, I really do like/love/want/lust after Roz. Don't get me wrong. And particularly right now when I'm locked in a 'secure hold' on a Horde zeppelin, waiting for take-off, and he's being 'lectured' about how leaving Orgrimmar and the watchful eye of the Warchief is not a recommended extracurricular activity right now. It's just... I miss him. I really wanted The Day After the Oath to be a spectactularly lengthy fuck-fest from dawn til dusk, take a snack break, then carry on from dusk til dawn. I suppose once the prohibition against vag-tivity ends, I can still _think_ about him... you know... while taking care of stuff.

Anyway, yeah. Garrosh is holding him hostage so I do what he tells me to do. And he's sending these two dweebs along to 'help' me get the job done. Right. I can see _that_ happening. Harag keeps _snickering_ whenever he looks at me. I have a feeling I know what's on his tiny little mind.

As for what I'm doing? Who the fuck knows? I'm supposed to hook up with some Belf asshat in Grom'gol. I have a feeling it'll involve paying a visit to the biggest cesspool city in Azeroth. Can't wait. Look out, your kingliness. Here comes Karie, loaded for bear. I'll bet _he_ _'s_ afraid of the Big Bad Vag, too. I hope so. I still have Roz's tusk in my pocket. There might be some payback coming online. _Hey Harag, fetch the stick, boy! Get it! Get it! Ooo, and while you're in the King's gardens..._


	71. Day 51 and I'm SO Putting This on YouTube

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 23** _

Oh my god, Harag has a pet raccoon! I could die. Here's this burly, gruff, nasty-ass Orc with a chip on his shoulder the size of Manhattan, and he _cuddles a raccoon_ when nobody's around. God damn.

I got the run of the zep once we were in the air because yeah, where'm I gonna go? I was informed by the crabby goblin air captain that the zeppelins are slower than boats (or 'slower than gnomes running uphill' as he put it), so it'll be about a week and a half on this crate. I was just wandering around this morning, poking in the corners, and I heard this _chittering_ business going on in one of the rooms below decks. Well, you know me, gotta check it out. Could be a rat, could be a giant green son of a bitch with an attitude. You just never know. A little of both, as it turns out.

And he was _pissed_ when I barged in on his quiet time with little Timmy. Holy crap.

Harag: Get the fuck out!

Me: [dodges flying dagger - barely] Hey! Knock it off! I thought I heard something in here. Pardon the fuck out of me!

Harag: [hastily unsummons Timmy the Coon] Get out. Just... _get out_.

Me: [smirks] Pretty cute critter, Harag. Are you really a softy underneath, or were you an inch away from an anatomy class project when I walked in?

Harag: [seethes] Why don't you go _fuck_ someone, eh?

Me: [arches brow] Oath, dude. And there's nobody on this ship _worth_ fucking.

Harag: Humph. Alliance pig. Like an oath to the Warchief even _matters_ to you.

Me: Read the memo, asswipe. We're on the same team. You wanna be a dick, be a dick. Fine with me. I've got some choice commentary I'm sure you'd enjoy hearing. Keep blowing shit out your face, you'll get to hear more. [pause halfway out the door] Oh, and when you shove something that big up your ass, you'll want to use a lot of lube. [slam door]

I expect we have gotten off on the wrong foot. This evening when we sit down for dinner, things may be... awkward.


	72. Lesson for Day 51: Rogues Suck. I Really Mean That.

I have to conclude that Harag does _not_ have a sense of humor, nor is he the forgiving sort. Word to the wise: don't piss off a rogue. They have access to _poison_. While doing me in is against his work order, that slimy bastard isn't prohibited from making my life miserable.

There isn't room for much on this zeppelin, so there's only one bathroom. I spent most of the evening in there, trying not to let my stomach extrude from my mouth with each heave. I should have taken the smirk as a warning when I started eating my dinner, but I stupidly thought, 'hey, it's not like I pantsed him in front of Varian Wrynn.'

 _Now,_ that is absolutely an option, if the opportunity arises.

As for Zatso, I haven't heard or seen much of him. Which doesn't mean he's not lurking in the shadows somewhere, watching every move I make. So far, I haven't caught him in my quarters, nor have I found him hiding under the sink in the bathroom, but I'm sure it's only because he's stealthed. Asshole. Same with Harag, come to think of it. I'll bet they're both watching me pee, the sick bastards.

I think I need to come up with a Revenge List. Top of that list is, of course, Garrosh. Harag's going on there if I spend _tomorrow_ puking my guts up too. And if I don't get a bead on that nasty Goblin soon, he'll get added just because.

My stomach hurts, my ribs hurt, my back hurts... And now I have to puke again...


	73. War is Declared on Day 52

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 24** _

I was all set to apologize to Harag for being a bitch and making rude comments about his 'relationship' with his pet. Had a bit of a think last night, and while feeling sorry for myself with my head over the toilet, I knew I was probably just acting out like a rebellious teen-ager. I miss Roz really badly; it's like my whole world just flipped _again_ and threw me for a loop, so maybe taking it out on Harag - poor, innocent, sweet Harag - was a bit immature.

And then I stepped out of my quarters into an oil slick on the floor and nearly slid right out the back of the zeppelin to my death.

All right, there's guard rails and bulwark and all that... I was never in real danger of _dying_ , but my ass is sore, and that's close enough. I went straight to the snack-o-matic in the hold, bought a snapvine watermelon, cut it in half, and waited. Sure enough, the rodent-lover snuck down to see if I was sprawled on the floor in an undignified heap. I promptly shoved half of the watermelon in his green face. It was very complimentary to his complexion, and _almost_ satisfied the need to see blood.

Of course, we've covered his complete lack of a sense of humor. I had to run _fast_ and it's not that big a zep. Luckily, I had the other half of the watermelon with which to slow him down. For a rogue, he's damned easy to lose if you run long enough. Either that or he decided to take a more logical approach to revenge.

Which doesn't sound all that good, actually. Crap. I'm just gonna... stay here in my quarters awhile. Maybe wedge something against the door.


	74. The Battle Continues on Day 52

There is absolutely nothing else to do on a zeppelin cruising over the ocean for ten days except torment the hell out of your fellow passengers. Obviously.

Hunger drove me out of my cabin a couple hours ago and a _herd_ of rats chased me right back in. A tide of angry plague-carrying evil came screaming down the stairs from the deck as soon as I put one foot on the bottom step. Dignity be damned, I squealed like a cartoon woman confronted with a mouse and raced back to my room. The sound of the little feet scurrying across the wood only lasted a few seconds, though.

What I figured out was that it's some kind of illusion spell the bastard got a hold of, likely from a gnome. In which case, they should have chased _him_ all over the ship. Gnomish magecraft and/or engineering - can't trust either one.

Even though the moron hadn't spent the morning wrangling rats for revenge purposes, I'm not letting this slide. The Vend-o-Tron has _nightcrawlers_. And red dye. I'm thinking a simulated squirming bloodbath in his bed just might make me feel better.


	75. More Fun on Day 52: The Hall Monitor is a Bitch

I learned two things by sabotaging Harag's bed linens: the first mate's name is Brassbolt, and she's a total bitch. Oughta be named Brass _balls_. I'm confined to my quarters for the rest of the day, and if I don't 'behave myself,' more of the same tomorrow too. Damn, these Horde types all stick together, don't they? And there's Harag, deftly hiding the bottle of oil and handful of rat bombs behind his back, grinning like a tool.

Yeah, I'll get even. I promise you that. I'll just have to be more subtle about it. Or manage it a little more creatively, anyway. There are a couple of Orc grunts up on deck 'keeping the peace.' I wonder if I can talk the lady into joining forces. It's hard to crack that testosterone bond, so the guy's out of the question, but the lady...

I'll sleep on it and see what I can come up with.


	76. 53 Days in Azeroth and I Still Can't Talk to Boys

_**HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 25** _

Ounda, the lady Orc security guard, has no interest in talking to me or having anything to do with me. She went from rudely ignoring my attempts at conversation to suggesting I throw myself over the rail. Well. Fuck you. So I grudgingly sidled up to the other grunt on board.

Umgor, on the other hand, is a nice guy. _Looks_ like he gleefully peels the skin off kittens before eating them alive, but that's kind of what most Orcs look like so it isn't his fault. I lamented my issues with Harag and asked if he might, you know, keep an eye on the ball sack so I don't maybe end up dead one of these days. He _laughed_.

Umgor: Don't know him, do you?

Me: Um... apart from him being a collossal space dick and a nuisance, no.

Umgor: He don't get on well with folks.

Me: [sarcastic] _No_. Really?

Umgor: [nods] Keeps hisself to hisself, mostly. Don't leave his cabin most times he's made this trip, either direction.

Me: So... he's an anti-social git _and_ a dickhead?

Umgor: [laughs] Ain't seen'im about as much as he's been on _this_ trip. You done flushed'im outta hidin'.

Me: Yay. How do I... flush him back _into_ hiding?

Umgor: [thoughtful] Well... don't know as he'd be all that willin', now you got him out. Yer makin' it fun to be on deck's what yer doin'.

Me: [rolls eyes] Oh, gee. Well, one of us is going to wind up dead if this keeps up.

Umgor: [shakes head] Nah, he's one'uh the Warchief's assassins. If he wants yuh dead, yer dead. End of story.

Me: Comforting. I thought, you know, Garrosh put a leash on him or something.

Umgor: [shrugs] Maybe. Likely. But he's only messin' with yuh. Ask me, I think he's kinda sweet on yuh.

Me: [gags] I just had breakfast, Umgor, and now it's coming back up. What the hell?

Umgor: Yuh don't put up with his shit. Yuh give it right back. Most folks stay 'bout as far away from'im as they can get. He likes that fine.

Me: Completely understandable, given his total lack of social skills and... morally questionable profession. Look, I'm... pretty well spoken for. If he wants a little roll in the hay, he's barking up the wrong... lady. _And_ failing utterly to charm me in any way even if I _wasn't_... you know, _with_ someone.

Umgor: Just tellin' yuh what I see. Guy like him... don't know how to go about things... pretty much does it all wrong.

So... gag me with a spoon, Harag has a _crush_ on me? Come on! Pulling pigtails during recess is so fucking cliché it's not funny. Even if it... sort of... completely worked for Roz. Dammit. I'm going to feel compelled to be nicer to the obnoxious little shit so I don't hurt his _feelings,_ now that I've been informed he _has_ them. Son of a _bitch_.

Well, you know where _this_ is going. Gotta hook that guy up. Diversionary tactics. Throw a woman across his path and maybe he'll run off after her. Isn't that how counter measures work in submarine warfare?

I just have to find a likely candidate... which means I have to (god dammit) find out what he likes. Why me, lord? How did _I_ end up being the Matchmaker to the Horde?


	77. Thwarted Right Outta the Gate on Day 53

Sometimes, I wonder why I even bother. Ounda's gay, so no pushing her in front of the Harag bus. She was not, of course, adverse to doing a little damage to _me_ in the sack, which I graciously declined. And backed away slowly, because that grin of hers is not warm and friendly. Plus she suggested only this morning that I swan dive off the deck into the ocean.

Brassballs isn't interested, either. Her preferences don't include, and I quote, 'green monster cocks.' All righty then. So that pretty much exhausts the estrogen that was loaded on board when we left.

There _is_ a crewman named Crosswire, though... Maybe if I got him to change his name to Cross _dresser_...


	78. So Much for Peace Talks...

Trying to have a civil conversation with Harag is like trying to give a warthog a makeover - it just ain't happenin'. I _did_ try, you know. I approached him with hands up in the universal 'peace talk' position.

Me: Hey, let's talk for a sec, all right?

Harag: [smirks] Givin' up already?

Me: [affronted] _No_. I just think things got off on the wrong foot, that's all.

Harag: [pokes my shoulder] _I don't fuck animals_.

Me: [contrite] I know. It was a stupid thing to say.

Harag: [sharp nod] I ain't _Alliance_ trash.

Me: [you did _not_ just go there] Oh? So you're saying _Orcs_ are animals? _Trolls_ are animals? Is _that_ what you're saying, _asshole_?

Harag: [sneers] They are if they fuck _Alliance_.

Me: [withering glare] Yeah? Well, _I_ _'ve_ been informed you're not too far off from it yourself, you nasty little shit.

Harag: [surprised] Huh?

Me: [gotcha!] I have it on good authority you're thinking you might want a little bit of this.

Harag: [oops... erm...] That ain't true!

Me: [win!] I hate to disappoint you, numb nuts, but this flight path has been claimed. I don't think Roznik would appreciate you trying to land on it.

Harag: [sputtering] That's... Like I... Huh-uh, no! I ain't... With _you_... _NO!_

Me: [victory!] Well, with all the shameless _flirting_ , I don't know what other conclusion I was supposed to have...

Harag: [defensive fury] _I ain't flirtin'!_ Yuh fuckin' _pissed me off!_

Me: [pitying sigh] Oh dear. You've got it bad, don't you? I'm so sorry, Harag.

Harag: [foaming at the mouth - nearly] _I got nothin' 'bad,' specially not for **you**!_ Stupid cunt, why don'tcha leave me alone?

Me: [flaring up like _Bestial Wrath_ was just cast] Did you just call me... the _c-word_?

Harag: [gains points] Yeah. What of it?

Me: [rams knee in his groin, thus negating points gain] _That's_ what of it, dickhead.

As you can imagine, I hot-footed it out of there before the little shit could recover. So it looks like we're back to square one. I'm not sure I _want_ to inflict him on some poor, unsuspecting woman, now that I think about it. And it actually crossed my mind to set him up with Korky when we get back home... Not now. I like her too much.

Unfortunately, I'm now stuck in my room for the rest of the evening until Harag cools off... and digs his testicles out of his throat.


	79. Finally Found That Sneaky Little Goblin on Day 54

**_HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 26_ **

Me and the Snack-o-Matic are becoming good friends, particularly since it's only a few yards from my quarters. Unfortunately, being goblin-made, it makes a hell of a lot of noise ejecting its bread, cheese, and fruit selections, but not so much noise that I couldn't hear some interesting little sounds coming from one of the other cabins.

Oh, honey. You know I can name _that_ tune in three grunts and a moan.

The cabins are down in the hold, which isn't at all like the hold of an ocean-going vessel. There's lots of open space and only a few little rooms for crew and passengers. One of these little rooms is across a relatively narrow hall from mine, and if you lean your ear against the door _really tight_ , you can hear someone getting his freak on in a major way.

Since I can't stealth my way through a dark room, I had to hide in my quarters with the door cracked open a hair and watch. Eventually, out comes Brassbolt the first mate or whatever her rank is, and not long after, Zatso! OMG! If _that_ didn't make me wheeze with hilarity, the _next_ person out of the room _did_. My god, it was Sparksizzle the navigator! Son of a gun. Those naughty goblins! Well, Brassy Lady, you may not want _one_ green monster Orc cock, but you'll apparently take _two_ green Goblin dicks. What, they're smaller?

Okay, so the questions on everyone's minds are, do they do DP? Is it like a Goblin chick sandwich? Do the guys do each other when she's tired? Does she take a dick in both ends at once?

And am I going to get myself all hot and bothered wondering what _she's_ doing when I can't do a thing about it even _without_ Roznik in my life?

Apparently.

Two more days. Me and the vag have an appointment. And the Vend-o-Tron sells copper rods.


	80. Day 54: The Vend-o-Tron is Woefully Understocked

Either I'm not clever enough (which can't be true since I took the engineering profession - even though I haven't done shit with it since I made a load of copper modulators in order to seduce Rinling), or the Vend-o-Tron doesn't cater to pranksters. There isn't much of anything to work with in that thing. But since Harag doesn't seem to have run out of crap to keep the war going, I'm beginning to suspect he carries a lot of seemingly unnecessary contraptions with him everywhere.

The son of a bitch _somehow_ set up a trap that made me fly up into the ceiling like my personal gravity reversed. I'm still pretty sore about that. And mad, too.

Okay, what I came up with is a combination of stuff from the Vend and Snack machines. I've strung some heavy silken thread - multiples of it, to make sure it's more or less strong enough to withstand an Orc - and rigged up a cherry pie right about where I think he'll land face first when he leaves his room and hits the tripwire.

All I have to do is wait. And wish I had a camera.


	81. Note to Self: Orcs Do NOT Like Pie

Oh lordy, was he pissed! You would think Harag had never had his face in a pie before. Any kind of pie. Which is entirely likely, given his delightful personality.

So I'm hiding again, but not in my room. I had to find another spot. I caught the little shit going into my quarters. He's probably laying land mines.

All right, this is turning ugly. I'm trying to avoid GBH, but Harag doesn't seem to know where to draw the line. I've nearly broken my neck on a few of his tricks. Before he hauls out a WMD like his fucking _Warchief_ , maybe I need to take the high road and make peace with him.

Which is _galling_ , I don't mind saying. Why do _I_ have to be the mature one in this relationship? But honestly, we're not even halfway through this trip, and we're ready to kill each other. I don't know what crap-ass job we're going to be doing, but we'll be in enemy territory and relying on one another. I suppose I can't afford to have this... _thing_... hanging between us. Yeah, he won't kill _me_... not _directly_. But he could sure as hell look the other way while someone _else_ does it.

I am _not_ looking forward to this. He wasn't too happy about our 'chat' yesterday. Likely because he had to swallow real hard so his balls would descend again. Men get so touchy about that sort of thing.

The only way I can think of to smooth things over with him and at least _try_ for another round of peace talks is to get him drunk. Not drooling on the floor and barfing over the rail kind of drunk, just tipsy enough to relax. The Snack-o-Matic doesn't have booze, for some damn reason, so I suppose I could ask around. See if anyone's stashing hooch on this vessel. You can't tell me Goblins wouldn't exploit the sideline benefits of selling beer to passengers on the sly. It isn't easy sliding something unnoticed under a Goblin's nose, being as they're so short and all, but I'll bet if it's possible or even probable, another Goblin'll do it.


	82. Hoping for a Drunken Orc Rampage at Any Moment

Turns out, crewman Fastwrench is the go-to guy for moonshine here. And his prices are reasonable. Which means I didn't have to go down on him or bend over for him. Always a plus when dealing with black market goods.

 _However_... I don't think Harag holds his liquor well. Especially when he doesn't know he's just received a spiked melon juice. And _especially_ when it's home brewed in a still tucked away in the crew quarters so the captain doesn't know about it.

Wow. He puked his _guts_ up. I don't even want to contemplate what was in that shit. Then he sort of collapsed in a heap and lay like a dead thing.

Yes, I _checked_ ; he's alive. Or he was five minutes ago when I checked for about the fourth time. I'm pretty worried about him, actually. Even though I _know_ I should make myself scarce and run for the hills before he wakes up, I feel really bad. When he poisoned _me_ , he knew what he was doing. I feel like I just stupidly gave him Drano. I asked Fastwrench if, you know, he ever had anyone _die_ from drinking his shit, and he just shrugged like he didn't give a crap.

I can't just leave him there, but I'm sort of afraid when he _does_ wake up, he'll be fifty shades of pissed off. On the other hand, I kind of hope he's still got enough functioning brain left to _be_ that pissed off.

That's it, I think. I'm done. This turned from an 'innocent' prank into an emergency room visit, because that's what I would have done if there was a hospital here.

Time to pull on the big girl pants, go sit next to him, and take the hit when he wakes up. And resuscitate him if necessary. God, I hope it isn't necessary.


	83. Truce Declared on Day 54, and a Whole New World of WTF Just Opened Up

He faked it. I swear to god, if I hadn't already decided to call it quits, I'd get even with him for scaring the living shit out of me. He literally lay there for an _hour_ without moving, just to make me think he was in a coma. The bastard actually did a gurgling death rattle too.

Fucker. I _threw_ myself over him sobbing and apologizing, doing the whole 'live, damn you, _live_ ' thing, grabbing his shirt and shaking him... He lasted all of three seconds into that and burst out laughing _right in my face_.

When I got my heart rate back down, and stopped patting myself down for a handy weapon to use on him, we sat and talked.

Harag: Ain't gonna let yuh win.

Me: You know, I don't even care. It's not about winning. I'm... I'm sorry. It shouldn't have gotten to this point.

Harag: [shrugs] You quittin', then?

Me: [surrenders] Yeah, that's right. I quit. _You win_ , okay? Happy now?

Harag: [frowns] Okay.

Me: So... do you have any idea what... what we're supposed to do? What this 'mission' thing is?

Harag: [shrugs] Don't know. Don't care. Orders is orders.

Me: Just... do whatever he says, huh?

Harag: [narrows eyes] I'm _Horde_. I do for the Horde what needs doin'. The Warchief _is_ the Horde.

Me: [nods] That's pretty much what I think, too.

Harag: [snorts] Bullshit. Yer _Alliance_. Don't matter who yer fuckin', yer _Alliance_.

Me: [sarcasm] If I was, would I be _here_ , do you think? Would I be gleefully marching off to do something that will _likely_ be considered treasonous to the Alliance?

Harag: [shrugs] I don't put nothin' past the Alliance no more.

Me: And _I_ don't put anything past the _Horde_. Or at least the Warchief.

Harag: [looks away] I do what I'm told.

Me: [oh?] And you don't ask questions, do you?

Harag: [shakes head]

Me: You don't... think, you just... do it.

Harag: [nods]

Me: Because... you've been given reason _not_ to. Am I close?

Harag: [clenches jaw] I do what I'm told.

Me: [hound on the scent] [quietly probing] What's happening to the Horde, Harag? What's... what's he doing to it? _With_ it?

Harag: [swallows] Ain't runnin' it no more, as far as I can tell. Malkorok is.

Me: [WTF?] Uh... who the hell is he?

Harag: Son of Rend Blackhand. Blackrock Orc. He and a bunch of his clan are in the Kor'kron Elite now. He's the commander.

Me: [double-barrelled WTF] You're _kidding_ me.

Harag: Ain't a lot of Thrall's people in the Elite no more. Getting edged out or just... disappearin'.

Me: [worried] Oh my god... Korky. That's why she clammed up...

Harag: Who's that?

Me: [waves hand] Just my personal guard appointed by the lovely and talented Garrosh Hellscream to keep me out of trouble. Never mind that. So the Blackrock clan is in the Horde now?

Harag: [nods] Yeah.

Me: And you're saying this Malkorok guy is _running_ things? How is _that_ possible?

Harag: [guarded] Maybe not... _runnin'_ things exactly. Get all my orders from him, is all.

Me: Orders... to kill people.

Harag: [hard expression] I do... what I'm _told_.

Me: Right. Sorry. It's just not... an easy thing for me. That's all.

Harag: [snorts] Ain't 'easy' for anyone.

Me: So... you don't... enjoy it? Or anything?

Harag: [shrugs] Don't even think about it. Just do what I'm told.

Me: Have you... always... just... killed people? Without thinking about it?

Harag: [pause] No. Not for Thrall. Just _listened_ for him. That's all he wanted.

Me: Times change.

Harag: [nods] Yeah. They do.

Me: [extends hand] Truce?

Harag: [shrugs] [shakes hand] Sure. [grins sheepishly] You might wanna... be careful goin' in yer room. Got some land mines set up. I'll, uh... I'll just go take care'uh them for yuh.

Me: [wan smile] That would be appreciated, thanks.

I have to digest this conversation. I had _no idea_ the Blackrock clan was in the Horde, even minimally. I hate to say it, or maybe I should be _proud_ to say it, but I never really noted Orcish skin color. Most of the ones I've seen are green. Thinking back, the boys in Elwynn Forest, including Kurtok the Slayer, were more grayish. Fentulk was brown. Now that he's got my attention pointed there, I can recall that the goons who came up to Korky and gave her the low-down right after the bomb fell were gray-skinned. And if I think really hard, I can remember a gray-skinned Orc in Grommash Hold at Garrosh's right hand.

Holy shit, they've been there _all this time_? Why didn't anyone _say_ anything? I distinctly remember saying to Garrosh that they weren't _in_ the Horde! Dammit...

And Harag... he's got some kind of deep, dark secret he's not willing to share. Garrosh has him by the balls and over a barrell. He used to be a spy, and now he's an assassin. That's a huge-ass leap. Anyway, I've got to win his trust if I'm going to get to the bottom of it.


	84. Day 55: What is the Frickin' Deal With These Hordies?

**_HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 27_ **

Apparently the trick to making Harag go to ground and not poke his head up until next February is to get friendly with him. I tried a little small talk, some subtle probing, trying to get him to open up, and he barked some choice expletives at me, snorted like Krog (is this an Orc thing?), and stomped off to his quarters. He can't be _too_ mad because I'm still alive hours later, and there isn't a bucket full of pig blood rigged over my door either. But he _still_ hasn't shown his face on deck.

Well, while _he_ was off having a hissy, I thought I'd have a chat with Zatso. You know, since he's finally come up for air from between Brassbolt's legs. And here I thought _Ounda_ had a mixed bag of feelings about me.

Zatso: Fucked Harag yet?

Me: Uh... good morning to you, too.

Zatso: [shrugs] Nothin' else to do 'round here.

Me: [annoyed] Why don't _you_ fuck him, then?

Zatso: Not interested.

Me: [smirk] Monster Orc cock?

Zatso: Let's say it would complicate things.

Me: Uh huh. So... is this how it usually goes down for you guys?

Zatso: [narrows eyes] How'd'you mean?

Me: You're told to travel clear across the world to get your orders. Nobody even _suggests_ the use of a portal spell. [shrug] Seems to me an awful waste of time, and if I know _anything_ about goblins, it's that you don't like to waste time.

Zatso: Is that so?

Me: [what'd I tell you?] Yup. So what's the deal?

Zatso: [shrugs] Don't know.

Me: Hmph. And you don't care either, I suppose.

Zatso: Course I care. You think I like taking this trip? It's a load of _shit._ Pay's usually good, though. _That's_ what I care about. Getting there, in this case, ain't even one iota the fun, much less half.

Me: [raise eyebrows] You mean you're not finding clever ways to entertain yourself?

Zatso: [snorts - must be a Horde thing] Not so clever as that lovesick pup belowdecks. Got better things to do.

Me: [mutter] Better _people_ to do...

Zatso: Whassat?

Me: [innocent] Nothing. What makes you think Harag has the hots for me?

Zatso: Puh-leeze. You're _human_. Dumbass has some weird fetish.

Me: [heard _this_ one before] Do tell. So what, he had a brief and glorious affair with some lady and was never the same again?

Zatso: Not as far as I know. Just kinda likes'em. Used to spy on Theramore, back when there was somethin' to spy on. Probably peeked in a lot of windows he shouldn't've. I'm guessin' you're the first human lady he's ever been around that ain't pointin' a gun at'im.

Me: Only because it's locked in a storage bin in the captain's quarters with everyone else's weapons. Listen, is it me in particular, or humans in general?

Zatso: General, I suppose. You're sorta easy on the eyes. I can see his point. Wouldn't mind a toss or two myself. [waggles eyebrows] [leers]

Me: Uh... _no_. This whole... lovely package has been claimed. I can show you Roznick's receipt if you like. In spite of what you might have heard, the vag is not a revolving door.

Zatso: Is that so?

Me: [jesus] Yes, that's so.

Zatso: Gets kinduh lonely on these trips. Ten days. Long time to go without. And after you already went a month...

Me: [annoyed] While your sympathy is appreciated...

Zatso: Then we got this mission... who knows _how_ long _that's_ gonna go on...

Me: [pissed] I don't really think this is any of your concern...

Zatso: Might even forget about you while you're gone. Been known to happen. Trolls, yuh know. Gotta stick their dicks in _somethin'_ on a regular basis.

Me: [ _really_ pissed] Now _come on_ , that's not funny...

Zatso: Course, he probably had a bunch of ladies before you. Can always check back with'em til you get back. _He_ won't be hurtin' any...

Me: [furious] Are you _trying_ to piss me off?

Zatso: [sighs] Which leaves you holdin' the bag, eh? Or wantin' to hold a bag. Harag's got a nice one he'll let you hang on to. [smirks]

Me: All right, _that's it_. Go... go fuck Brassbolts some more, why don't you? Asshole.

Zatso: [chuckling] Always room for a fourth. You're welcome to join us.

Me: [stomping away] Fuck you!

What is _wrong_ with him? Jesus!

Unfortunately, it still stings, what he said about Roznik. What do I really know about him, you know? I'm not contemplating having a fling or betraying him or anything. It's just... I hope Zatso was just taking the piss. I would be seriously, _seriously_ upset if I came back from this mission to find out he'd hooked up. Maybe I _am_ like a Troll, banging away at whatever doesn't run faster until _the one_ shows up and then it's just... different. There's just him in the room and I've locked the doors so nobody else can come in. Am I being stupid, thinking he locked his doors too?


	85. Putting Pen to Paper on Day 55

I've gotten used to expressing myself by writing about it since I came to Azeroth, so obviously, when a big issue rears its head, that's what I do. I don't know when I'm going to send this, but as soon as I get a chance to, it's going. I wrote a letter to Roznik.

For once, I didn't know what to say. Weird, huh? I've got all these feelings churning, all kinds of worries and things... and I didn't know what to say. Because writing it down, packing all your heart into crisp little emotionless squiggles on a piece of parchment, is harder than looking someone in the eyes and just saying it. I'm not some angsty little teenager. I'm thirty-six years old, or I was. I don't know what physical age this body is. Probably in its early 20s, judging by the firm boobs and great ass. Apparently it came with insecurities and hand-wringing 'does he like me?' shit.

If I knew him better, I would probably trust him and not let Zatso's stupid statements worry me. If I knew more about Troll culture, even... I mean, I probably know more about it than your average Alliance defector, but I only lived with them for a month or two. Zatso's likely been in the Horde, and neighbors with the Darkspear in Orgrimmar, for years. I keep thinking about the whole barracks swingers club and wondering if he's there right now, bouncing a hammock with one of the ladies. Did he even wait for the zeppelin to disappear on the horizon before...?

And I know this is a bunch of crap. _Zatso_ is a bunch of crap. I'm too mature for this. I tried to write a mature letter, expressing my feelings, telling Roznik that I love him and I'll be back, and most especially that he owes me big time because the oath expires after tomorrow and he _promised_ me a whole bunch of very awesome sex and maybe a little kink thrown in and I will absolutely without a doubt let him tie me to the bed and do whatever the fuck he wants because I _do_ trust him and want him and love him and...

Dammit. I didn't want him to think I was a dork, either. A lovesick dork pining away for him while he laughs and tosses my letter away. Telling his friends how easy it was. Just pour on the charm, and the knickers drop. Give her a snuggle and the top flies off. Dye your hair red, and the legs open wide.

I'm glad the Vend-o-Tron has an endless supply of parchment, because the floor is littered with false starts and stupid statements, romantic drivel and impersonal words. I just couldn't find the right 'voice' for what I wanted to say. So I ended up with this:

_Been thinking about you. How are you doing? I miss you._

I just can't manage anything else, because everything else makes me second guess and worry and _think_ and fear and feel so impossibly alone.


	86. Day 56: The End is Nigh

**_HELL ON AZEROTH: DAY 28_ **

Amazing what a good night's sleep (and cathartic cry) can do for your outlook. That and the dawn of the last day of the world's stupidest oath. I can almost smell the sex coming for me at midnight tonight.

Today's agenda, since I'll be _god damned_ if I'm letting Zatso get me down, and I'll be _doubly_ damned if I'm going to indulge Harag's attention-seeking foolishness, is converting a copper rod into a vibrator without electrocuting myself or turning the zeppelin into a flaming wreck in the middle of the ocean.

I may have to just make do, given that the Vend-o-Tron is a worthless pile of shit. MacGyver couldn't get himself out of a minor inconvenience with the shit that's in there. And I'm not about to ask Harag if he has anything interesting in his pack. What a conversation _that_ would be.

Me: Never mind what it's for. Do you have any copper wire?

Harag: You riggin' a bomb or somethin'?

Me: While an explosion _is_ the intended outcome, not from _that_ sort of thing. How about a battery pack or some energy source?

Harag: Got a khorium power core. Will that work?

Me: Um... got anything smaller? Like the size of a D battery? Because that's uh... that's a bit... unwieldy.

Harag: What the fuck's a D battery?

Yeah, not likely to be an easy chat. And considering I don't really want to try and pry the groundhog out of his hole, not likely to happen.

Well, half of sex is in the mind, so I'm going to conjure me up some lurid imaginings about Roznik and his poorly-concealed junk. How many times has that thoughtless bastard paraded around in skin-tight pants, just asking for it? Uh huh. Too many to count. Trying to get some sleep in his bed and the junk in question is all up in my backside. Yeah. Mmm hmm. Don't need to actually _see_ it. I know what he's got.

Holy crap. Anybody know how long it'll be til midnight? Fucking sun taking its sweet damn time...


	87. Aaaaaaaaaaahhhh: Day 57

You know, I think I'll just relax today. Take a load off. Bask in the sun on deck.

Maybe later.

I've probably got an audience outside my door, but I don't give a crap. Not this morning. Nope, not caring one damn bit. Hey, peanut gallery, give me a bit of recovery time and the show will go on.

It's just me... and... my... v'giiiiiii-naaaaaa,   
Rubbin' down the aaa-ve-nuuuuue...   
Me... and... my... v'giiiii-naa,   
Got this rod in deep, I doooo

And when I lose my breath,   
I... take a break,   
Think of Roz,   
And I can go again.

Just me... and... my... v'giiii-naaaa   
All alone and feeee-lin' _so fucking AWESOME._

The queen is in duh house and she's feelin' _fine_.


	88. Loose Lips Sink Ships... Or Seriously Upset Zeppelin Passengers, Anyway

I'm sick to my stomach. Really. Just ready to barf. I can't even leave my cabin. I made the mistake of being on deck when Zatso was 'taking some air' and chatting away with one of the crewmen, and he just let it slip. Something that didn't reach anyone's ears in Orgrimmar after the bombing, but seems to be old news for _these_ guys.

This Malkorok... the Blackrock dude who's running the Elite now... he set off a bomb in the Razor Hill inn.

I don't know what to do. Who do you tell about something like this? And Zatso _chuckled_ about it. He said 'them folks got what they deserved, talkin' trash about the Warchief and all.'

How many were in there? The one time I stayed, there were at least a dozen raw recruits, still wet behind the ears, just learning the ropes. I overheard some of them talking about how they were going to do great things, bring glory to the Horde, honor to their families. Trolls and Orcs, because they all have to go through Razor Hill, they all have to do their part to keep those rotten quillboars in check, they all have to rescue the little old shaman lady in the floodplain...

I suppose the one good thing about what I overheard is that I now know Zatso's in the Warchief's hip pocket. Harag might be an ally at some point, if I can get past the wall of pissy and find out where he stands, but Zatso... No. I don't think I could ever trust someone who thinks it's _funny_ that a bunch of kids got blown to pieces because a couple of guys said something Malkorok didn't like.


	89. Must've Had the Turbo Jets Powered Up on Day 58

Sparksizzle announced to everyone this morning that he'd spotted the coastline on the horizon, putting us a couple of days ahead of schedule, but I can't muster the enthusiasm. I'm still thinking about that bomb. When did blowing folks up become the go-to disciplinary method in this faction? What, it was so fun flattening Theramore, let's make a habit of it? Hey, maybe that tool general in Stonetalon had the right idea!

If I wasn't so... well, _devoted_ to the Horde _people_ , I'd seriously consider jumping ship. Going back to the Alliance. Yeah. Even _me_. Except I know it's probably no better there. And really, what would that say of _me_? The kitchen got too hot? Maybe I'm just a shoddy hunter who can't even shoot a target dummy without cringing and worrying about the family that'll never see him again, but I feel like I've got to stick it out. Garrosh _can't_ keep being a massive tool. _His own people_ are bound to turn on him sooner or later, right? And how about that pile of shit, Malkorok? _Rend Blackhand's_ son? Are you _serious_? Who the hell in their right mind would trust _him_?

I really wish I was back in the Echo Isles. Back with the Darkspear. I miss those people. Especially Roznik, as you can imagine. Not just because the oath's up and all that. I want someone to talk to about all this. Someone who'll say, 'hey, we've been through this crap before; it'll pass.' Except I know nobody would. The ones who remember having an asswipe warchief are too old to get around anymore, or they're dead. Everyone else remembers Thrall, and how he ran things. He wasn't a pacifist or anything, but he didn't do stupid shit that put his people in unnecessary danger. And maybe after the whole business with the Earthen Ring and saving Azeroth, he's a lot more inclined toward peace. Couldn't we have him back? Or shit, put Vol'jin in charge. I don't know much about Baine, but I'll take him if the other two are busy. Anything but Garrosh and his meat puppets from Blackrock Mountain.

Because I've got a really bad feeling about what we're going to hear when we arrive at Grom'gol tomorrow afternoon. I just know it'll be something stupid that'll fuck things up for everybody.


	90. Docking Procedures Successful on Day 59

We have arrived. And the Belf is late. I suppose it's only to be expected, since the weather was good and we had a tailwind or whatever the hell shot us over the ocean at max speed.

The dude in charge is Aggro'gosh, and I hate to say it, but his name just _begs_ for riffing. 'What? I aggroed a herd of raptors into the base camp? Gosh! I'm sorry!'

Oh, and here's a flippin' surprise: he gives me dirty looks. Wow. An Orc who isn't glad to see me. Who'd've thought?

First order of business on arrival was to mail my little note to Roznik. I hope the mail system is faster than the damn people transports. I have this wistful image that there's little imps in the mailboxes who slip in and out of the nether with our envelopes, and can find the recipients no matter where in the world they are... sort of like really effing ugly-ass Harry Potter owls. That can chew your face off.

Anyway, we reported in to Aggro'gosh and I tried not to ask if he'd kited anything lately, then we got rooms in the inn. You know, in the game, the Grom'gol inn is in the base of the zeppelin tower, and is therefore really damn small. Evidently, the game designers never visited the _real_ Azeroth. To begin with, the tower is broad enough at the base that even if _both_ zeps landed directly on top of it, the tower would hold up to the weight quite nicely. I'm not an architect, but even _I_ can see that. So there's rooms in there, some under the stairs, some around the walls. They're _small_ , though, like one-person affairs that are more like closets with a hammock and a bit of space under the hammock to stow your gear. This is not a major tourism hub; neither is it a bed and breakfast. I asked Thulbek the innkeeper what was on the menu for lunch and he told me to take a stroll out the front gate and see for myself (sarcastically and with plenty of sneering, I might add).

Anyone who's visited this part of Stranglethorn Vale knows that right out the gate of Grom'gol are loads of pissed off raptors and crocolisks. I was not amused.

Thank god for Nargatt, the humanoid version of the Snack-o-Matic. I am now sitting happily in the shade of the awning where the creepy guy hangs out, munching on a ham sandwich. The creepy guy is, of course, Mok'thardin, and while he might not seem like it in the game, he sure as hell gives off a weird vibe in person. He's got eyes that see out the back of his head, I swear. And they're the ones pointing forward, so you never know if he's looking at _you_ or the guy behind him. Really unsettling.

Where might the boys be, you're probably wondering? Naturally, Harag is hiding in his room, probably fondling his raccoon. Zatso is likely crying in his beer now that his fun-time-gal is too busy prepping the zep for the return trip to blow him or whatever.

I'm trying like hell to keep a cheerful outlook for as long as I can, because I know when the Belf shows up, the party's over.


	91. What... the... FUCK?!

I'm supposed to be getting my shit together, but I just can't move. I'm really just... blown away. Garrosh has the biggest, most ambitious, and frankly _stupidest_ set of balls ever known. It's going to take me some time to sort this out. And figure something out. Anything. Because this... this is... I have no words to describe it.

Thalen Songweaver: Listen well. I will not repeat myself. Once your orders are given, you must depart swiftly.

Zatso: Do I get my money back for the room? Didn't know when you'd show up.

Thalen: [snide] Of course. Now then... Karie, is it?

Me: Yes.

Thalen: [insincere smile] Your quarry is Anduin Wrynn. You are tasked with learning his whereabouts and...

Me: Um... have you checked the _keep_?

Thalen: [withering glare] ... and tracking him down. I hope I do not need to point out that, while you are best suited to travel within Stormwind, _discretion_ would likely be wise, considering your... past run-ins with the local authorities there.

Me: [arches brow] Are you suggesting I'll do something _in_ discreet just for the hell of it?

Thalen: [more withering] It is _suspected_ that the target is no longer in the city, but where he is now is not widely known. You will find out where he has gone.

Me: Okay, _then_ what?

Thalen: That will be the end of your part of the mission. Harag, when the target is located, eliminate him. Zatso, your tasks...

Me: [WTF!?] Wait a minute, wait a minute... Target. Are we still talking about Anduin Wrynn here?

Thalen: [impatient sigh] Yes. Now Zatso...

Me: [fuck!] Just a second. Are you saying... we're supposed to kill _Anduin Wrynn_?

Thalen: [glares] Zatso, your particular talents will provide stealth fields for Karie, and transport for the group. Now, it is likely that Karie will be required...

Me: Why?

Thalen: [startled] I beg your pardon?

Me: Why? Why kill him? He's... he's just a _kid_. I mean... yeah, his dad's a dick, but that's hardly _his_ fault...

Thalen: This is not a... _healthy_ line of questioning, Karie. These are your _orders_. You will _follow_ them. As I was _saying_ , Karie will likely be required to lure the target into position, Harag. Ensure there are no witnesses. And no extraneous casualties. [glares pointedly at Zatso]

Me: But... [feel Harag putting pressure on my foot under the table] [shut up]

Thalen: For this mission, there will likely be times when you will be separated. For that, an attunement has been authorized. I will apply them to you before you leave. For you, Karie, I suspect it will be easiest to manage; the spell is very like the connection you have with your pet. Alas, it is not three-way; you may only communicate one to one. I assume there will be no... secrets among you. [arches brow]

Just writing this down... I'm shaking. My hands are _shaking_. Vol'jin said there'd be blood, and he wasn't kidding. I don't know what to do. God dammit, I don't know what the fuck to _do_.


	92. Day 59: At Any Other Time, a Ride on a Hog Would've Been Awesome

Apparently, Harag prefers a human girl's butt nestled snug and warm into his crotch rather than a Goblin boy's. Hard telling; he sure as hell hasn't said anything since we left the base camp.

I figured out pretty quickly that all of us are engineers, which explains the vast quantity of useless toys Harag has in his pack. This sweet ride is his, too. The side car, though, is a really tight fit even for well-folded Goblins. Zatso has _not_ stopped bitching about his cramped legs since we hit the road.

I'd trade him places, except I'm bigger, and I don't think Harag would want him to know having a girl's ass glued to his dick wakes it right up.

You know, it's not like I haven't had an Orc dick invading my personal space before. You get used to it.

I'm trying not to think more than a few minutes ahead. We're supposedly driving up to the hunter camp, so I suppose _yay_ , I'll get to meet Nesingwary's son. Woot. Maybe there'll be some handy Goblin snatch to distract the knee-biter long enough for me to have a real _chat_ with Harag. All through the effeminate evil mastermind's spiel, he looked like a stone statue. No expression on his face whatsoever. It's like he had no opinion one way or another... or he's gotten really good at hiding his opinions. Am I just looking for help here, that I'm imagining things?

Wait, what?

...

That was the weirdest thing ever. Harag just _thought_ to me, through that attunement whatsis. He said _Don't say nothin' around Zatso_. That's it. Good lord. I think the secret sharing is gearing up. Frankly, I'd rather share secrets with Harag than Zatso, so I'm not complaining. Maybe we _will_ have that chat at the camp.


	93. The Plot Thickens... And Gets Weirder on Day 59

Harag isn't a talker; he's a _thinker_. And he doesn't know how to shut off the tap once he's opened it up. I had to educate him on that, which naturally pissed him off. But it'll do a wonder for his survival rating. Guess what I learned?

Not that he has a schoolboy crush on me or anything, but he has _serious_ issues with our mission. Very uncomfortable about it. Until I pointed it out to him that he was still broadcasting in my head, there was this jumble of thoughts rolling around like a think orgy or something. I saw Malkorok for a second, Garrosh with his usual 'you will die a horrible death' expression, and made out a couple of older Orcs - man and woman. Somewhere in the mix was Thrall looking pissed. I honestly can't make heads or tails of these images, but the _feeling_ I got was panic. Something is going on in Harag's head that is _not_ coming out his mouth anytime soon. I tried, believe me. I had to take him to the edge of the hunter camp, keeping Zatso in my sites so he wouldn't stealth and eavesdrop. But thankfully, there was a Goblin guy with loose gender preferences available, so he was hitting on him a convenient distance away.

That is one horny-ass Goblin, that Zatso. Anyway, I took Harag aside.

Me: You know you don't want to do this.

Harag: [evasive] I don't know nothin' of the kind.

Me: You can trust me, I swear. _I_ don't want to do this, either.

Harag: [pokes chest] Keep yer trap shut. Don't say or _think_ nothin' like that.

Me: What is the problem? What's he got on you that you're being...

Harag: [glares] There ain't nothin' nobody's got on me, end'uh story. You shut yer mouth and do what yer told.

Me: But it's _stupid_. All it'll do is escalate the war. There'll _be_ no peace, _ever_ , if we do this.

Harag: Don't matter. We got orders...

Me: Our 'orders' _suck_. You know they do.

Harag: I don't know nothin' except what I gotta do.

Me: Your thoughts told me that's not true.

Harag: [seething] See if I think anything at you again.

Me: Look. It's not _my_ fault. _You_ didn't hide it. But I'm thinking you'd better _start_ hiding it if you ever think at Zatso. I suspect he'd be far less receptive to your... misgivings.

Harag: [nervous] You... you ain't gonna... gonna tell'im nothin'... are yuh?

Me: [sigh] No. I have nothing to say - or _think_ \- to him. He thought it was funny what happened at Razor Hill. I suspect he laughed his ass off about Theramore, too.

Harag: [nods] Yeah. He did. He was on the airship that dropped it. Bragged for a week after, cause he couldn't say nothin' before. Piece of shit. [spits]

Me: You can talk to me, Harag. I'm loyal to the Horde, no matter what you think. But I don't believe this is in the Horde's best interests. Pretty much _everything_ Garrosh has done lately falls into that category.

Harag: [shakes head] Can't trust nobody. Ain't startin' with _you_. [stomps away]

So much for cracking Harag's shell. Maybe he's keeping me at arm's length, but he's still giving me warnings in almost a protective sort of way. Obviously he's figured out that I was never a James Bond fan, and so I don't handle intrigue and secretive spy bullshit very well.

What I _have_ learned (because poor Zugzug has been trapped in the Nether for weeks and needed a romp and a small animal disembowlment to boost her spirits) is that if I concentrate and have that channel open, I can hear what my pet hears. It was literally a fluke and not something I really _wanted_ to hear, but Zugzug got a bit too close to a certain clump of bushes Zatso and his new 'friend' were occupying. I didn't learn state secrets or anything (pretty much just learned that Zatso is typically the 'man on top' if you catch my drift), but it's a handy thing to know about the wonders of hunterdom that aren't covered in the game. I have a feeling I'll be partnering up with Zugzug pretty frequently on this trip.


	94. Still Not Getting Anywhere Later on Day 59

I'm about ready to strangle Harag. I tried again after we set up camp. We crossed the border into Dark Shadows land, or whatever that region is just north of Stranglethorn, a few hours ago. It has 'goth paradise' written all over it. I'm expecting a Twilight fangirl squee from the bushes at any moment. Because you _know_ Zatso'd find some tail even out in the middle of B.F.E.

I have to say, thinking to someone and staying on topic is really difficult. And not just for me. Trying not to _show_ that you're thinking pissy thoughts at someone isn't easy, either.

Me: _Harag. He's a **kid**_.

Harag: _No. He's a **target**. That's all._

Me: _Tell me you don't mean that._

Harag: [muttering thought] _[fuckin' bitch get outta my head] That's **all.** Don't think about nothin' else._

Me: _I can't just **not** see that he's a kid. Jesus, he isn't even old enough to **drive** , for crying out loud!_

Harag: _What the fuck is that s'posed to mean?_

Me: _Nevermind. What would Thrall say? Have you thought about that?_

Harag: _[stop] Leave him out of it. He ain't the Warchief no more._

Me: _He **should** be._

Harag: _I ain't paid to **think**. [ma] So I **don't**. [mama] Now shut the fuck up._

Me: [surprised] _But you do. I can see it. Come on, Harag._

Harag: _WHATTA YOU WANT FROM ME?_

Me: _Let me in. We can think of something. We don't have to do this._

Harag: _[too much] We do the job. We pass and nobody gets hurt. That's all we gotta do._

Me: _Pass? What do you mean **pass**? Is this a **test**?_

Harag: [pause] _Yeah._

Me: [carefully] _Who's being tested, Harag? You or me?_

Harag: [pause] _Fuck off._ [end trans]

After that, he seemed to be afflicted with a desperate need to pee really far away, and stomped off into the darkness for several minutes. I'm starting to develop a picture. The sort of muttering thoughts in the background of our 'chat' mentioned 'mama'. I wonder if I caught a glimpse of his mother in that hodge-podge of thoughts a few hours ago. His father too. Maybe his family is being threatened? Wow. That's a rather tired, overused tactic, don't you think, Garrosh? Honestly.

Effective, though. It's certainly working on _me._ I'm put in mind of Chesuk when he was brought back to the hut... by _gray_ -skinned Orcs, now that I think about it. I still don't know what they did to him. The visual was enough to make _me_ toe the line. I don't want the same thing happening to Jozala _or_ Roznik. Or _worse_ happening to them because of me. My apparently temptingly delicious human ass has already caused Roznik a good deal of personal damage at the hands of the Alliance; I trust this Malkorok would be at least as thorough if he has no issues with random acts of mass murder and general mayhem.


	95. 60 Days in the Hole

You know, I have to assume it's day. This frickin' zone - which is apparently called Duskwood though it _should_ be called 'The Asshole of Midnight'-wood - is so damn dark I have fallen over Zatso at least fifty times in the last thirty yards of walking. Granted, he's stealthed, but that's hardly an excuse. You know you can sort of see a stealthed figure when you're close to them. It's either a natural flaw, or super hunter spidey senses. I have no idea.

I have Zugzug out and she keeps bounding off the trail to do in random rats and spiders. She couldn't be happier.

We're angling north and west, and the boys have promised me they're keeping an eye out for danger. Since we've passed a couple of patrols, they're staying hidden. I've had some 'splainin' to do, lone gal wandering about all alone in a worgen-infested forest and all. I told them I'm on a cooking show that specializes in dog balls. Really famous. I come out to Duskwood for the shopping.

Yeah, they slowly back away.

Zatso is in my head _constantly_. _Go left. Head in that direction. No, not_ _ **that**_ _direction,_ _ **THAT**_ _direction. Take the right fork. Get off my foot!_

Haven't heard a peep out of Harag. I have to assume he's still with us.

Okay, my feet are no longer killing me, so it's back to the road. These guys are lousy travel companions.


	96. Head Towards the Light! Or Westfall, Whatever: Day 61

I don't get many opportunities to write, unfortunately. Mostly it's because I want to make sure I know just where those boys are before I jot anything down. At the moment, Zatso is scaring up some ass in the bushes - or pissing, I can never tell which - and Harag has wandered off to quietly contemplate his navel in the shade of a tree about ten yards away. He _might_ have his raccoon out; it's hard to tell, since his back is turned and he's hunched over.

So I've got a moment. We've reached the border of Duskwood and are now following the river on the Duskwood side. It's sort of insulting, being this close to light and warmth and farms and rolling hills on one side, and a fucking huge cemetery full of god knows what roaming around on the other.

No, I never explored this area except from the air. It's always been Alliance-heavy. Even at a high level, I didn't see any reason to pick up the achievement on the ground. Screw that noise.

I suppose it's relevant to mention that I didn't haul my entire collected works with me on this trip. The bulk of my diary is back in Orgrimmar, well hidden, I assure you. They'd have to turn the whole city upside down to get a hold of it. Heh. Watch that be the next quest Garrosh hands out. 'There's a book stashed away in the city that has some insulting passages about me in it. I'll give you this nifty trinket if you go find it.' Ass.

Well, it looks like Zatso has unloaded some uncomfortable ballast of one sort or another and Harag has finally lurched back in our direction. I guess it's time to go. I suppose it would also be relevant to mention that we're going to Stormwind. Like that was ever in any doubt. I know _I_ didn't want to face it. Gag. That place _sucks_. But at least it isn't Goldshire. Could be worse.


	97. Gnolls Suck, Murlocs Suck, Everything Sucks on Day 62

I'm in the company of idiots, I've decided. First we found ourselves late last night hovering around the aquatic crossroads between Duskwood, Westfall, and Elwynn Forest without a clue how to cross into Elwynn. Other than the obvious. As luck would have it, the river's branch that separates Duskwood from Elwynn isn't particularly deep in some places, so we forded it and came out dripping wet and pissed in the woods. Woods which, at night, look no different from the ones we just left.

Except that they've got gnolls behind every bush. Good old Zatso, somehow able to flush out a potential lay - or throat-cutting monster - within ten minutes of our arrival. I found myself in the rather uncomfortable position of learning exactly to what degree of deadliness my travel buddies could rise when pressed. While I cowered with my arms over my head and tried to scream bloody murder _quietly_ , they disemboweled, dismembered, and disassembled about half a dozen of those nasty things in a ridiculously short span of time. It was like a level 80 _anything_ waltzed into the n00b area and AOEed the level 2s. Except with a lot more blood and gore and limbs and guts and...

Okay, hold on. Gotta barf.

Better. So once we got through the gnoll welcoming committee, Zatso thought we should skirt their area (yuh _think_?) and go upriver some before cutting through the forest. Keep in mind this is still the middle of the god damn night. Contrary to what one might think, just because murlocs are wet and shiny doesn't mean they glow in the fucking dark. I swear to god, they seem like the most ridiculous little jokes in the game...

 _Unlike_ the game, the murloc settlements in Elwynn Forest are _not_ sparsely populated. Nor are the little fuckwads diurnal. We got _swarmed_. I had Zugzug out, thank god, and did she ever have a good old fun time joining the boys in a romp through the fish guts. And they kept _coming_. _I_ actually had to shoot a few. A couple of them jumped all up Harag's ass while he was dispatching about _four_ , and Zatso was just zipping all over the place, doing minimal damage to one and moving to the next (presumably to hold aggro, but more likely just generally pissing them off)...

Well, I hate to say it, but it looks like I saved Harag's bacon. Or whatever a haunch of Orc meat is called. He will likely not be grateful.

All I can say is that it's fortunate we got out of there before the sun rose this morning, because after seeing far too much gnoll intestines in the moonlight, I don't think I was up to seeing what probably looked like a fish market after a hurricane.

So we're finally in Elwynn Forest and Zatso thinks another day of sneakiness will get us to the city. Getting a little nervous.


	98. Mos Eisley Has Nothing on Stormwind: Day 63

Made it. I am now holed up in an inn about a hop, skip, and a jump away from the Park area that is currently in a state of permanent disrepair, a la Deathwing. Maybe the local artisans managed to fix up the front gates and re-set the statue that toppled, but this area is still a piss-hole. And it is now richer by one Goblin and one Orc.

Yeah, I get a comfy bed with room service, and they get to huddle in a gutted building eating dry rations because they can't even light a fire or they'd be discovered. Sweet.

My agenda for the day is to have a stroll up to the Keep and check the layout. See if, indeed, our intrepid young space cadet is in duh house. I really hope like hell he isn't. I hope for all I'm worth that he's off on some mind-blowing adventure in a far away land. One we can't get to by _any means_. Sorry, Garrosh. Better luck next time, huh?

You know, I've been thinking a lot about this over the last couple of days, and I've come to the conclusion that 'peaceful accord' with the Alliance is the farthest thing from Garrosh's mind. That's the only reason I can come up with for offing the heir to the throne. See, Varian Wrynn is at least as much of a war-mongering tool as Garrosh. They're perfect foils for each other. They ought to get a room and just leave the rest of us alone. But see, if anything were to happen to Varian, his son would take over. And his _son_ is a peaceful guy. I read that book about the pre-Cataclysm events. Anduin became friends with _Baine Bloodhoof_ , for crying out loud. That's a hell of a lot more generous than his dad would ever be to a Horde leader. So there's an inroad there. A path to peace. Maybe an opportunity for trade deals so the Horde gets the resources they need without killing half the Alliance in the process.

But that's not what Garrosh wants, evidently. And maybe he's got enough unrest in his own capitol that he doesn't even want the _possibility_ of it offered up. Wouldn't want his own people getting ideas. Making demands. Overthrowing him. That sort of thing.


	99. Crap, Now I've Got a Space Goat Tagging Along

This is positively the worst thing that has happened so far on this god damn mission. I made a friend. And I _can't get rid of her_.

Okay, I went up to the Keep this morning, kind of nosing around. There aren't 'wanted' posters up for me or anything, so I'm sort of just another face in the crowd. Rather anonymous. I went in and nonchalantly wandered around, peeking around corners and whatnot. Didn't catch even a glimpse of Anduin. Felt pretty damn relieved about that. Then I saw Mathias Shaw heading for the throne room. I about _crapped_. Maybe the majority of the Alliance doesn't know me from Adam, but _he_ does. We had quite a lengthy discussion or two in Dustwallow Marsh. Unlike running into old classmates at the mall, I kind of didn't think re-acquainting myself with _this_ son of a bitch should be high on my 'how to survive as a spy in enemy territory' list. So I ducked into the last place a dumbass like him would ever be caught dead: the library.

As libraries go, it's pretty standard. Bookshelves lining the walls, lots of free-standing ones. Lots of tables with books on them. Books everywhere. And one lone Draenei with a load of them sitting on the table with her. My rather skidding arrival into the room got her attention.

Here's where I made my first mistake: I affected nonchalance and, since I had her _undivided_ attention anyway, I made small talk.

I suppose in the end, I did sort of learn mission-related stuff. One of those things is that Anduin Wrynn isn't in Stormwind. In fact, he isn't even in the Eastern Kingdoms. No, he flounced off with his dad's zone-conquering forces to stake a claim on a new continent they just discovered that's loaded with pandas. _But_ , and here's the juicy bit, _nobody knows where he is now_. Rumors abound, of course. Some people think the Horde captured him, others are saying he just hared off on his own because his dad's an overprotective git. Either way, there's a frantic search going on in this new land.

Now, I didn't mean for it to happen, but this Draenei, whose name is Nadezhda, suggested we join the search. Mostly because she's got this burning need to get herself killed in contested territory, I suppose. Naturally, I find out _here_ that Garrosh has sent an advance force to try and beat Wrynn's move on the continent. Great. I swear, the whole world would breathe a sigh of relief if those two would just _get a god damn room_.

I had no really good reason I could actually bring up for why the two of us travelling together was an uber bad idea. She eagerly told me she's a paladin of the Light, she'd make sure I didn't get hurt, we could be best buds, and oh by the way, do I know much about Orcs? You know when you're riding your bike along the road, minding your own business, enjoying the sun and the wind on your face, then someone opens a car door and you flip right over it and roll on the ground for several yards? Yeah, that's about what her question did to me. What, do I have a button on my shirt that says, "I Fucked an Orc This Morning - How's Your Day Been?"

As you can probably imagine, I played stupid as hell.

Me: I've... uh... not given them much thought, I suppose. Why do you ask?

Dez: I have been learning such fascinating things. They are an interesting people.

Me: [hedging] Yeah... I'm sure they are.

Dez: Quite misunderstood. Shall I tell you what I learned?

Me: [panic] Now?

Dez: Light, no! It would take too long. [worried] Does this topic... offend you, perhaps?

Me: [quickly] No, no, not at all. It's just... not a... popular one, I guess.

Dez: [sigh] Not many of my own people wish to talk of these things. Embracing hate is wearisome, yet many of them hold it to their hearts and will not see beyond the past.

Me: Well, you can't... really _blame_ them...

Dez: No, of course not. I have for many years myself held fear and hatred close. But these are troublesome things. And they cause much difficulty. It is better to learn _why_ we fear, and _whom_ we hate. When these are known, we may... let them go.

Me: [sincere] You know, I'd love to hear what you've found out. Um... I'm staying at The Blue Recluse. Maybe you could stop by...

Dez: I would love that! Then we may plan our grand adventure, yes? It is said Pandaria is quite beautiful.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking. Way to lure an innocent into a den of cutthroats and thieves. But really, I've been stuck with those rotten bastards for weeks and I think I'm entitled to some girl talk. And, you know, I can toy with the idea that a Draenei with an Orc fetish might be fun to throw at Harag if he gets on my nerves.


	100. Day 63: How to Piss in an Orc's Wheaties, Part 1

I think I need a good, long cry. My evening was spent in a mental tug-of-war between a Draenei and an Orc, one of whom was completely unaware of the struggle. Or the presence of the Orc.

Let me see if I can piece this together, because it got weird _real_ fast. I extracted myself from the conversation with Dez (no shit, she actually goes by that name) and high-tailed it the hell out of the Keep so I could regroup. I thought to Harag and let him know about the whole 'missing Prince' issue, and told him to keep his ass as far away from my hotel room as possible because it was going to fill up with Alliance paladins in short order.

He didn't take the hint.

Harag: _Gotta talk to you._

Me: [exasperated] _God dammit, I just walked in the frickin' door. Let me pee, will you?_

Harag: [unstealths right in front of me] Can't wait.

Me: [shits] _Jesus_ , Harag!

Harag: You better not blow this. Warchief's watchin' us _both_. You more'n me.

Me: Look, I haven't 'blown' anything. I just... ran into a... someone or other. And she's going to be here at some point this eve-

[knock on door]

Me: [hiss] _Fuck_! Go hide, dammit!

Harag: I ain't above cuttin' yer throat where yuh stand. [stealths]

Me: Yeah, take a number, asshole.

If you didn't guess that my new visitor had hooves and a tail, you haven't been paying attention to the continuous execution of Murphy's Law that has plagued my entire existence in this world.

Dez: I hope I am not intruding, no?

Me: Not at all. Come on in. [shifty-eyed scan of the room checking for Orcs]

Dez: I am most excited to have met you, Karie. There are not many left in the city who still wish to go.

Me: [duh] Go? Go where?

Dez: To Pandaria, of course! It has been a strictly military engagement for the past week, but now that the portal has been established, more folk are going.

Me: Really? Isn't it... um... dangerous?

Dez: [perky] Most assuredly! But it is a new land. Have you not met any of the Pandaren?

Me: Yeah, actually, I have. The one I know was from that 'Wandering Isle' thing.

Dez: Truly? Such a fascinating place it must be. I would love to visit. Imagine: a rich land of mountains and forests, set upon the back of a giant _turtle_!

Me: [stunned] A giant _what?_

Dez: Turtle! Did your friend not say?

Me: [embarrassed] Uh... I guess I never asked what the... wandering bit was about.

Dez: [grins] You must always ask. Always. Questions lead to answers, and answers provide knowledge. With knowledge comes wisdom. So you must _ask_.

Me: [chagrinned] I'll, uh... I'll remember that. So there's a portal to Pandaria, then?

Dez: Yes. It is on an island in the lake north of the Keep.

Me: [grumpy] I don't suppose there's a bridge to this island, is there?

Dez: [way too damn cheerful] No, we must swim.

Me: Great.

Dez: At least it is not winter!

Me: So... what's on the other side of this portal?

Dez: I have been told it is a Pandaren village called Paw'don. The Alliance has established friendly relations with them, but the area is not entirely secure. The Horde has a base nearby that is a constant threat. [frowns] It is manned by Forsaken.

Me: Ew. The undead suck.

Dez: [nods] Indeed. But we will not trouble ourselves with them. We shall seek out the lost Prince, yes? And we shall be heroes when we find him!

Me: [uncomfortable] Yeah. Heroes.

Dez: And perhaps... [blush] [conspiratorial whisper] ... perhaps we shall meet some Orcs.

Me: Uh... you actually _want_ to?

Harag: _What's that about?_

Me: _Shut up_.

Dez: Very much! Surely there are some who also seek adventure in a new land, and do not trouble themselves with the conflict between us. Perhaps we shall meet one.

Harag: _She likes Orcs or somethin'?_

Me: _Yes. She's weird. Now shut it._

Me: I'm sorry, I have to ask. Considering the... history... What made you, I don't know...

Dez: [wryly] Forgive the Orcs for their attempted genocide of my people?

Me: [shocked stare] [blink] Yeah. That.

Dez: [sigh] [puckered brow] As I said, I have studied their history. Their culture. Inasmuch as I have been able. They are a fascinating race. Alas, the books here in Stormwind are woefully biased. It is tragic.

Me: Not... exactly unexpected, though.

Dez: No, not unexpected. Yet, there are small bits that make one wonder. What I discovered was that in the second war, the Horde very nearly overran Lordaeron, but suddenly withdrew in what was assumed to be retreat. I thought that strange. They had the war nearly won, and seemingly without cause, they threw it away. I was most curious about that.

Harag: _Didn't fuckin' throw **nothin'** away!_

Me: _Don't get your britches in a twist! Shut up!_

Me: Did you ever find out why they did that?

Dez: Yes. For the sake of honor. One of their own commanders, an Orc named Gul'dan, took his followers on an unrelated mission, rather than support the main force. He _betrayed_ them. And so Orgrim Doomhammer sought to punish his betrayal. It cost him the war, but maintained his sense of honor. Most fascinating, don't you think?

Me: [actually interested] Yeah. I guess I never thought about that part of it.

Dez: [beams] Not many do. So little of the Horde's point of view can be found here. I had to journey to Dalaran and view _their_ histories to find out.

Me: [surprise] Dalaran has a library?

Dez: Of course! Because the Kirin Tor has always maintained its neutrality, they have the broadest collection of works from authors on both sides.

Me: I guess I never paid attention. I didn't know they _had_ a library.

Dez: It is well-guarded now that the city has been moved to Northrend, but years ago when it was in the Alterac Mountains, one could visit more freely.

Me: You saw it? Before they moved it?

Dez: Absolutely! I have been here many years. [frowns] Not long after my people escaped Draenor, in fact. I am considered young by Draenei standards, but likely old by yours.

Me: How old _are_ you?

Dez: [smiles] Age is not measured in years, but in experience. I was spirited away with others before Shattrath City fell to the Horde. My parents... both of them... remained behind.

Me: Oh. I'm sorry.

Dez: [waves hand] It is past. They rest in the embrace of the Light.

Harag: _Shit._

Me: I suppose... So what does that make _you_? Age-wise.

Dez: [smiles] I am eighty-seven. To my people, that is quite young and naive.

Me: Well, to _mine_ , that's puttering around the house talking to furniture.

Dez: [laughs] I assure you, I do not speak with the furniture!

Me: Chairs don't make good conversationalists, that's for sure. You know, I can't help being really curious. If you remember when the Orcs were actually killing your people, and your parents were presumably killed by them, why in the world are you so sympathetic now?

Dez: [nods] You likely ask because of what has happened in Theramore. I should embrace hatred once more, if not for my people's sake, then for yours. But I cannot. I know... too much, perhaps.

Me: [glares in corner presumed to be occupied by Orc] _I_ was mightily pissed about it.

Dez: Many were. It is said, though, that one of the Horde leaders warned the Lady Proudmore of the attack, and so she was able to repel it.

Harag: _WHAT?_

Me: What? A Horde _leader_?

Dez: [nods] Oh yes. They are just rumors, of course. Very little of substance and truth can be learned, but it is _also_ said that the Lady Proudmore stormed into the Keep and _struck_ _the king_!

Me: [smirk] I have to say I'm not upset about _that_. What did she do that for?

Dez: [whispers] Evidently, his SI:7 agents were off chasing an Alliance defector rather than watching the Horde's activities. Lady Proudmore was quite cross with him that she learned of the impending attack from one of the attackers.

Harag: _Who? Ask her who told_.

Me: _Why, so you can go kill him? Shut up!_

Me: [deftly changing subject] So... you don't hold a particular grudge, then?

Dez: [shakes head] Not of the Horde as a people, no. There are many among them who embrace honor and try to do what is right. They follow the ways of the Light in their own manner. I am saddened by the loss of life, but I am wise enough, I think, to know it is not _all_ the folk of the Horde who decide what is done. After all, would they have agreed to use their own as bait for such a trap?

Me: [surprised that she knows this] A... trap?

Harag: _What?_

Dez: [nods] Yes. That, at least, is relatively common knowledge. At least, it is not so well-hid as the identity of the informer. No, it is known. There can be no other reason for the bomb to be dropped only _after_ the bulk of the Horde forces were within the blast zone, can there?

Me: [troubled by Horde secrecy on the matter] No, I suppose not.

Dez: [shakes head] So many were lost. I shall have to pay my respects when next I visit Dalaran. The Kirin Tor is still in turmoil over the loss of their leader. There is support for Lady Proudmore to take Rhonin's place, of course...

Me: [shocked] Excuse me, what? What was that about Rhonin?

Dez: [surprised] Did you not know? Why, it was Rhonin's sacrifice that spared Lady Proudmore...

Me: [verklempt] He's... no, that's not... Not Rhonin. [holy shit] Tell me that's not... that's not true.

Dez: [sympathetic] Oh Karie. I did not realize you did not know. I am so sorry.

Me: [total meltdown]

Dez: There now. [hugs] It is all right. Sshh.

Me: Sorry.

Dez: Think nothing of it. I apologize for causing you pain. Let us speak of other things.

Me: Yeah. Good idea.

Dez: Should we depart for Pandaria tomorrow? Do you think that is too soon?

Me: [weak grin] Pretty anxious, huh?

Dez: [beams] Most anxious. I should let you prepare. Shall I come by in the morning?

Me: [nods] Sure. I'll see you then.

Dez: [hug] I am terribly sorry.

Me: [shrug] It's okay. I'll get over it. It's past, right?

Dez: Yes. But for you, it is still fresh. I do not begrudge you a moment of grieving. If you need anything from me, let me know.

Me: See you tomorrow, then.

After she left, Harag unstealthed and just stayed in his corner staring at nothing. I don't think he was aware of the whole 'trap' business, or that his Warchief was _that_ much of a dick. I could see the wheels turning in his head, and it looked to me like one of those 'light dawning' moments for him. Not that he shared a single thing with _me_ about it.

Nope, he shook himself and told me he'd regroup with Zatso and make _their_ plans for using this portal thingy. My job was to ensure they didn't appear on the other side surrounded by over-eager Alliance troops.

Duh. Like I'm going to go all Garrosh and betray ya'all or something. Zatso, maybe, but... not Harag. At least let me get to the bottom of _his_ issues before I feed him to the wolves, right? Just kidding.

Anyway, if he thought he was hiding from me the _feel_ of his thoughts the whole time Dez was in the room, he's on dope. About the only way I can describe it is _warm fuzzies_. Which is either really cute, or the most extraordinarily bad development in this farcical mission that has happened to date.

But _Rhonin_. I'm still reeling from that. I've taken _quests_ from that man. I've got several toons that received their 'welcome to level 80' care package from him. I've read several books of his adventures. It never seemed... _important_ that he was Alliance. He was _Rhonin_. And I can't believe he's dead. I really just can't get my head around that. I think I'll just go have that cry now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Rest in peace, dear Rhonin. All my toons miss you. And maybe someday Blizzard will honor your sacrifice and take you out of Dalaran for real.


	101. Day 64: Everybody Was Kung Fu Fighting

I think I'm going to rip the head off that god damn Goblin before this mission is over. To begin with, Harag was obliged to give him the scoop on Dez (hopefully so the little fucker wouldn't come waltzing into the room when she's around), which prompted Zatso to spend the next several hours _reaming me out_ in my head so I couldn't sleep. Plenty of 'what the fuck do you think you're doing' and 'this is supposed to be a _secret_ mission' and 'you're gonna blow it open wide' and 'what part of _no witnesses_ do you have a problem with.'

I hate Zatso.

Harag has been completely silent. I don't want to project anything on him, but his usual scowl was sort of... different when he left last night. Like his forehead was deeply creased for a different reason than he's just pissed at the world in general or whatever his issue is. I can _guess_ it's because his boss's tactics come as a surprise. Possibly he's trying to think of who the squealer was among the leaders. I've got two guesses on that score, just from what Chesuk's buddies overheard in the vicinity of Grommash Hold. It's either Baine Bloodhoof or Vol'jin. Since Baine and Anduin have a friendly thing going, and Anduin and Jaina are pals, my money's on the cow.

Anyway, first thing this morning, Princess Perky the Space Goat shows up all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, while I feel like Zatso's run over me with his trike about sixty times (probably look it, too). Me and my new gal pal trotted up to the little island north of the Dwarven District, and sure enough, one soaked-to-the-skin fun time later, we stepped through the portal into Pandaria.

Did I miss something, or did the Forbidden City get dropped on this continent? Is there some natural law that states 'when peopling a new land with anything resembling a panda, the architecture must be Chinese'? It's gorgeous, don't get me wrong, but holy crap, people.

Of course, who do we see hanging out in the courtyard on arrival but a load of asswipes from SI:7. I didn't recognize any of them - and believe me, I've got every face memorized - so no need to duck behind Dez. Who is _tall_ , did I mention? Dammit. If I don't tilt my head back, I'm getting a faceful of boobs. If there's even a tiny spark of interest in Harag, I hope he can cope with that. He's about my height, _maybe_ a few inches taller, so... On second thought, he's a guy. A faceful of boobs is likely no hardship for him.

Here's where I got clever. Rather than stock up on supplies in Stormwind, I suggested we wait until we _get_ to Paw'don Village, and get what we need _there_. That way, we can ask around, get some advice on what we need, and collect the _right_ stuff. While that meant we pretty much had no reason to hang out in Stormwind any longer, it _also_ means we're staying overnight in Paw'don before moving on. I'll be able to help those nimrods duck into hiding in the dead of night when they come through themselves. Assuming they don't get nabbed on the way to the portal on the Stormwind side. I have to assume that a) the decimated guard population resulting from my prison break has been replaced, and b) they likely fixed the doors Ku blew apart with her gun. So... if the boys get nailed, show's over.

Sorry. Not crying in my beer over a mission abort. I might shed a tear for Harag getting jailed. I kinda like that guy. But they can take turns introducing Zatso to all their nifty torture devices for all I care. He kept me up all night with his nasally, whiny voice - which sounds _exactly the same_ in my head as it does in my ears - and I'm not looking at having any sleep tonight, either. So he can suck it.

Zugzug is rather fascinated with this place, I must say. I'm sitting under a tree on a bench and she's just made mincemeat out of a thing that looks hauntingly like Harag's pet. One of the locals called it a tanuki. What the hell is that? Can't we all just say 'raccoon' and be done with it? Sheesh.


	102. Not Getting Any on Day 65

I am ready to drop. I've had no sleep for two nights straight, and I'm sorry, I wasn't built to take that sort of punishment. At least the boys are safely here.

Okay, I wouldn't shed a tear if a transporter malfunction turned Zatso inside out. Let's be honest.

Getting them past the guards wasn't as hard as I thought. They were able to maintain their stealthy thing even when passing through the portal. And here I thought blowing your nose dropped your stealth in-game. Evidently reality is far more forgiving.

So they're tooling around in the shadows outside of town while me and Dez go shopping. Don't think for a minute Zatso has let me off the hook, either.

Zatso: _First chance you get, lose the bitch._

Me: _How nice. Not much of a people person, are you?_

Zatso: _Alliance ain't 'people.' 'Specially not paladins. Ditch'er._

Me: _Hey, she's not causing any trouble, and she provides good cover for the mission. Chill._

Zatso: _Yeah, well your little 'friend' better not find out what the mission **is**_ _. I won't hesitate to cut her._

Me: _Don't be a dick. I haven't told her a thing, and I don't plan on it._

Zatso: _I'm watchin' you, yuh know. And if it ain't me that's got an eye on you, it's Harag. So don't think you can rat us out and fuck up the mission._

Me: _Don't you have some sneaking to do somewhere?_

Zatso: _Just sayin'. You keep to the mission. Get rid of the goat._

Me: _What, not pretty enough for you?_

Zatso: _I ain't above fuckin' Alliance if they're up for it. Something tells me she's not the sort. You, on the other hand..._

Me: **_Taken_** _. With a capital 't'._

Zatso: _Like that matters._

Me: _Go away, Zatso._

Now, I have to confess I have no damn idea what the deal is with this continent. Must've been added with a patch or an expansion after I arrived. I don't know what the goal is here, assuming it's different from the one I'm enabling against my will. I've seen some pretty weird things here, though. There are _fish people_. Not like those mrrggl mrrggl murlocs, either. They look like humans with scales and runty fins, until you get to their heads, then they look disturbingly like bipedal koi. Dez, the intrepid explorer, found out they're called Jinyu.

And they talk to water. Interesting.

In a couple hours, I'll see about all I can stand of them, though. We're heading to some kind of village of theirs as the first stop on our grand tour.

Want to know what Harag's up to? Wouldn't we all? I haven't heard a peep out of him, mental or otherwise, since the Blue Recluse. Sure, I actually saw him come through the portal, but I haven't seen him since, and he's apparently letting Zatso do all the talking. Or yelling, more like. Kind of wish I _could_ lose the goat for a few minutes so I can talk to the guy. I'm convinced, I suppose, that of the two rogues, he's got the most... potential for sympathy. Or at least common sense. What we're doing can't possibly be good for the Horde, long-term. He _has_ to see that.

And if he does, what'll we do about the Zatso problem? I guarantee he's only seeing dollar signs and potential sex partners in this venture.


	103. Floating Water Bubbles. I'm Not Kidding.

Just when you thought you'd seen everything. Apparently the hip fashion accessory for Jinyu _in the know_ is decorative fish. Fish as big as your head. Encased in an impossible globe of water. _Floating_ in the _air_. There's one guy, who as far as I can tell doesn't actually sell them, wandering around the village with something like ten of them trailing after him.

I swear to god, this is the weirdest place. It's like the titans or whoever built Azeroth had some fine print at the bottom of the contract that said, 'Anything you make needs to be pumped up to the extreme.' I thought bamboo was a relatively spindly plant. I've seen what can only be described as _bamboo_ trees here that are about as big as sequoias. And the insect problem... oy. It's like Zangarmarsh around here (which I actually haven't visited 'for real' yet, but now I'm curious). There are these wasp-looking bugs the size of mini Schnauzers flying around. Oh, and some sort of weird-ass bog beast things that look like they were cobbled together from rotten vegetation and swamp gas. With one gigantic eye. Creepy as all hell.

But good news, I finally got an update from Harag. They overheard mention of some altercation between the Horde and the Alliance north of here, and Zatso's heading up in that direction to get the scoop on where our allies are located, in case we need to chill with the home crowd or whatever. So that means Harag's watching my tail. Awesome sauce. Because if I read him right, it's not _my_ tail he's got his eye on.

There's also more info on the Lost Prince issue. Some Alliance military guys are here training Jinyu to lose their sense of humor (and fight, I suppose). They've heard some things about the search, but not much else. Nobody down here has a bead on the whereabouts of their Prince, and can't really muster the enthusiasm to care. They've apparently got bigger fish to fry, so to speak. Evidently, the arrival here was quite a battle between the factions, and a lot of lives were lost. In the interests of keeping the aggressive posturing at an all-time high, they've recruited the locals to fight for them. Clever. Interesting that they went for the fish people and not the Pandaren. Probably told them to blow it out their ass. After informing them that bringing your personal issues to someone else's house is extremely bad form.

Anyway, we're off on the next leg of the mission in the morning. There's a temple of some sort we need to go to for some reason. I'm pretty much letting Dez run the show because I have no clue whatsoever. My only hope is that by some magical intervention, Anduin winds up all the way back safely in Stormwind. I don't think there's a chance in hell of anyone getting to him if he's sitting next to his dad.


	104. Getting My Kicks on Day 66

We've stopped for the night on the road to the Temple of the Jade Serpent, or something like that. Dez is all aflutter; this is, to her, the most exciting adventure she's ever been on. Yeah. It's peachy. There are tigers behind every bush and weird talking monkeys jumping out at us, shouting things like 'ook'em in the dooker' or some shit. I have damn near wet my pants about a dozen times.

Thank god she's up for it. While I cower, she unleashes holy Light on anything that makes a threatening move. So it's pretty fortunate Harag is in a state of permanent Stealth.

He's been running pretty silent so far. I thought to him once, asking if he was being a perv watching us pee, and his retort was 'I ain't that kind of Orc.' Which made me snicker; peons say something like that when you poke them. I didn't tell _him_ that, though.

The spot we're in is a bit of a lake thing with a bunch of bridges criss-crossing over it, leading to other roads. We're taking the north road in the morning. I actually don't mind Dez all that much; she's pretty decent company. And she wields a very effective hammer. I'm doing very little of use in the combat department; apparently popping a cap in a couple murloc asses was about the extent of my engagement in martial activities. And about all I could muster. These tigers have cute little cubs, dammit. And the monkey boys _talk_. Sort of. At least murlocs have the courtesy to make gaggy, barfy sounds that don't sound at all like a language.

I suppose the main reason why I shot them was because I had to. Harag might have died, there were so many on him. I keep telling myself that, but it still bothers me when I have quiet time and start thinking about it. Could I do it again? If Dez was in danger? I just don't know. I'm such a lame damn hunter, I can't even shoot a squirrel without agonizing over it. I hope I don't have to find out.

Shit, people. Don't leave me alone in this forest, okay?


	105. Day 67: Someone Left a Huge Mess and Didn't Clean Up

Everything about this land has been, pretty much, damned gorgeous. The grass is lush and green, the leaves are still on the trees even though it's late fall, the water's clear and delicious... Then we get to the temple grounds and it looks like a black and white rendering of _The Cat in the Hat Comes Back_. The ground is blackened and splotchy, and there are plumes of smoke curling up from impact points. The foundation of some kind of statue stands in the center of an island down below from where we're sort of surveying the damages; the statue itself looks like it might have been a mother-fucking _huge_ Chinese dragon. And there are these... blobs meandering around the blast zone. They're not like the icky green oozes in places like Felwood, either; these are black and white, and sort of have arms and shit. It's difficult to make out exact details from this far away - and I'll be _god damned_ if I'm getting any closer.

Dez has pranced down to where some Pandaren are doing some gardening or whatever. I can't tell what's happening, but it seems to involve shovels.

I kind of expected Harag to take advantage of Miss Thing's absence and pester me, but he's still not saying anything. Or _thinking_ anything. I don't know what's going through his mind; I hope whatever it is doesn't involve offing Dez while she's out of my sight. She's really a nice gal. Maybe a little too perky in the morning, but a funeral director would be too perky for me at that hour.

Another unsolved mystery is where that asswipe, Zatso, has gone to. I would've expected him to wander back at some point. Again, hoping he isn't hiding somewhere down there, waiting to get the drop on Dez behind my back.

Oddest thing, though. Zugzug is cleaved to me right now, sort of sitting unusually close with her head down and ears back. I don't know for sure what's up with her either, but I gotta say - this place is damned depressing. It's the sort of place you expect to hear sad post-battle music in.

I can't make my feet take me down there, though. I just don't want to know.

I hope Dez comes back in one piece. And soon.


	106. Can't We All Just Get Along?

Dez is in tears and I'm not far behind her. There _was_ a battle down there, and the Pandaren aren't gardening, they're burying the dead. That huge statue was _almost finished_. The Pandaren had labored hard on it for over a century, because it's made entirely of jade and that shit don't grow on trees. Then _our_ people came flouncing over here, couldn't keep their hands to themselves, and chose _this place_ out of this whole region to beat the living shit out of each other. Oh, but it gets better. Not only did the depleted Alliance recruit the fishmongers and watertalkers, the Horde employed an assload of monkey boys.

The worst part of it is that their efforts to bring an unwelcome conflict to these shores stirred up one _hell_ of a nasty bit of business on that site. Dez isn't quite sure from the explanations just what the hell a _sha_ is, but it's nasty. Sort of an embodiment of negative emotion. The one that reigns in this region is the Sha of Doubt. If that's the case, I suppose it explains why I've felt so uncomfortable and kind of useless around here. Not that that isn't normal for me, but it's been a bit stronger than usual.

Add to this bit of bad news the return of Zatso, crowing happily about the 'Horde victory.' Dez didn't say anything about that; she lamented the damage to something incredibly important to the Pandaren. She didn't brag or whine about what the Alliance accomplished. In fact, she sort of got a hair's breadth from condemning her faction's participation.

Me and Dez, we see the bigger picture, I suppose. This wasn't about victory or defeat, it was about unfettered aggression and hate.

Speaking of which, Zatso was part joyful that yes, for a short period the Horde had possession of our 'target.' He won't even refer to Anduin as a person, which galls me. Anyway, the emergence of the Sha down there (which was, by all accounts, about as tall as a skyscraper - glad I missed that) caused enough confusion that Anduin was able to split the scene. So the bird has flown and again, neither faction knows where the hell that kid has gotten to. This does not please Zatso.

Breathing a sigh of relief, gotta admit. And chuckling a little at his bitching, even though he feels compelled to share it with me. I'm getting really good at cutting off the line of communication with him, which pisses him off even more.

I got one little snippet from Harag this morning, and it made me nervous. He thought, 'Don't turn your back on Zatso.' Great. How am I supposed to know what part of me is turned _toward_ the little fucker when he's stealthed all the time?


	107. On the Road Again, Day 68

One of the Pandaren engaged in clean-up caught a glimpse of the Prince after the battle, heading west with a fleeing family of other Pandaren, so we're back on the trail. It was like a switch got thrown: Dez perked right back up when she heard that Anduin got away safely. Really, it's the first sighting we've had, so I suppose that would be grounds for excitement, if I wasn't on an asinine mission to kill the poor kid. Dez is giddy, and I'm trying not to show how unenthusiastic I am about the news. And with Zatso back with nothing else better to do, he's renewed his grief delivery. If I hear _one more time_ about 'losing the bitch' or 'ditching the goat,' I'm going to strangle him.

Harag's no help. He absolutely won't explain his warning about Zatso, or respond to me at all. If I couldn't sort of 'feel' that he's connected to our bizarre local area network, I'd think he was dead. I suppose he's keeping in touch with Zatso, because that little shit hasn't said anything to me about 'what's Harag's problem' or 'why's that big green dinkus being so quiet.' Either they're having a little side conversation without me, or Zatso's just used to Harag not communicating at all. Whatever the case is, I'm in the dark and worried. Thanks, guys. Is this how 'teamwork' operates on covert missions for the Warchief? Love it.


	108. Day 69: Which Way Did He Go, George? Which Way Did He Go?

Timing is everything, I've noticed. The battle was actually several days ago, giving our 'quarry' enough time to go into a southern region and switch directions completely. Some guy who's been doing some traveling ran into him at a temple to a red crane, beating up another one of these sha things. Then he headed up north, and the guy came back this way, so he doesn't know where the kid is now.

Fantastic. We're at some farmstead in the region the locals call Valley of the Four Winds. It ought to be called Valley of the Diaper-Wearing Bunnies. What the hell is the deal with that? There are _rabbits_ the size of a Dwarf hopping around on their hind legs, and they're wearing _diapers_. This place just gets crazier every day.

And they're nasty, too. Even the little ones. _Especially_ the little ones. A small herd of them nailed us on our way from this guy's dad's house down to his pig farm, and I had to kick a few in the face. Dez was remorseful, since they were babies, but she still flattened their little asses.

Man, I hope Harag doesn't take a shine to them. He should just stick with the raccoon; at least it didn't _look_ like it was going to bite his face off. Not like _these_ little fuckers.


	109. Later on Day 69: Oh Goody

Another wanderer came around this farm and Dez is bouncing on her hooves over the latest bit of gossip: Anduin went to a place called the Shrine of the White Tiger way up north. We've been given directions to a pass just south of here we can take into the Kun Lai Summit region. She can't wait for tomorrow morning to get started, so I don't have much time to write. We're packing our crap and heading out. I hope we can see these bunnies in the dark, because it'll probably be nightfall by the time we reach the pass. Awesome.

It's coming back to us from these witnesses that Anduin's been helping a lot of locals out. He hasn't just been wandering around, seeing the sights and snapping pictures. He's been healing folks, helping them fight against the sha. And not just the Pandaren. He's been seen giving a hand to the Alliance _and_ the Horde, without reservation. It's like he's blind to factional hatred and just _helps folks_. _All_ folks. And Garrosh wants to kill him. I could just puke.

Oh, in case he feels neglected: Zatso's bitching _even more_. I believe his latest whine is that we're close enough to smell Anduin's farts, and I still haven't gotten rid of the dead weight. Would I like some help in that area? Since I'm obviously too much of a wimp?

God, if only I could give that god damned Goblin a kick. I know just what part of him I'd cave in, too.

Fuck it. Gotta go. Dez is about as patient as Zatso when she's on the scent.


	110. This is What Hell for Me Will Look Like

Oh my god. This 'pass' was not fully described. It's not a gentle slope or winding path, it's a frickin' _stairway_. We had to stop halfway up (at least I _hope_ it's halfway) to camp. I'm paralyzed from the waist down. Every muscle has seized up and I'm curled in a ball on my bedroll, whimpering quietly so Dez won't know what a lame-ass I am.

Does she not have a mount she can summon? Why the hell are we on foot, for crying out loud? We've been hiking for _hours_. If I'd bothered to count these mother-fucking steps, I'll just bet we've climbed about three thousand of them by now. And we're _not there yet_.

At least the boys are sharing the love on this venture. Except... they're not complaining to me about being exhausted and sore. So it's probably just me. Nice. All right, everyone say it: Karie should have gone to the gym once in awhile back home. Having a hot body doesn't equate to being 'in shape' and able to leap tall buildings - or climb endless fucking stairs - in a single bound. Got it. Now all of you piss off.

I wonder if Dez has some ibuprofin on her.

On a lighter note, there are raccoon things running around that look a lot like Harag's little guy. I wonder if he's been here before and grabbed one? Who the hell knows? It's not like the big green bastard makes small talk or anything.


	111. The Shit Hits the Fan on Day 70

Shit. Fuck. I don't even know how to deal with this. I'm in a state of shock and squashed into the sidecar of Harag's motorcycle as we scream north through a tunnel-cave-thing to a place called Binan Village. The only good thing is that the mission is effectively aborted at this point, but the bad news is I don't know what the hell happens next. It's difficult to write on this bumpy road, but I have to.

We finished the stair-step challenge and checked in at a place called Tavern in the Mists. There were some Draenei in the common room, so Dez got into a 'what's happening back home' conversation with them. Zatso thought to me that I'd better get my ass up to the room _right now_ , so I went. The two of them unstealthed in there and Zatso gave me a more in-person, can't-cut-me-off confrontation about getting rid of Dez. Harag just leaned against the wall by the door with his arms crossed and stayed out of it.

Dez must have heard the raised voices and burst into the room, ready to kick whatever ass was threatening mine. Harag grabbed her and held a knife to her throat. There was this weird moment where everyone was quiet. Dez was looking at me... oh god. She looked at me first apologetically, like she came to my rescue only to fall into the same vat of shit, and couldn't help me because she had a huge Orc pinning her, _could I possibly forgive her_ , then her face just sort of... It was like it dawned on her that they weren't doing anything to _me_.

Dez: It was _you_ , wasn't it? You're the defector.

Me: [ashamed] [guilty] [extremely fucking sorry] I didn't mean to lie to you, Dez, but I... I _had_ to. I'm so sorry. I _swear_...

Zatso: [smirk] Nice. Well, this works out. Finish it, Harag. Get rid of her, since our little friend here has been having such a hard time of it.

Me: No! Harag, please. She doesn't know anything. Just let her go.

Zatso: She knows enough. Cut her, Harag. Do it now!

Dez: [betrayed] Karie...

Me: You don't have to do this. I haven't told her a thing. She doesn't know why we're here...

Zatso: [screaming] Do it! Orcs get hard ons from killing Draenei. _Finish her!_

Harag kept looking at me, and I was just babbling, _don't do it, please, you can't, she didn't do anything, she doesn't **know** anything.._. I thought it would be okay - I actually sagged with relief - when he loosened up and started lowering the knife, but Zatso called him a weak-willed traitor and drew his own dagger. He was going to kill her. That god damned Goblin was going to absolutely fucking kill her right there in front of us. He _had_ to do it. Harag _had_ to. I tried to tell him Dez was innocent and didn't deserve it, he did the right thing, everything'll work out...

He looks like he's going to blow a gasket or freak out... just come completely unglued. I can't get him to _say_ anything. He sapped Dez so we could get out of there, and we left the tavern, hopped on his cycle, and took off. He's _shaking_ , almost hyperventillating, and he won't say a thing.

It happened so fast, I barely saw his hand move. He killed Zatso. Cut his throat so deep, his head almost came off. There was blood everywhere. On _all_ of us.

When we get to that village, maybe we can figure out what to do. _If_ I can get a word out of him.


	112. Ditched Without a Plan and No Way Home, Later on Day 70

I'm in the inn at Binan Village, and Harag's gone. I didn't get much out of him, but the gist is that he and Zatso were attuned to their bosses. When one of them dies, that attunement dies too, so there's no hiding this; the guy on the other end can feel it. Sort of like when Ku felt Brahm die in Theramore.

I have to admit, I didn't feel a thing. But maybe everything else that was happening sort of distracted me. I don't know. At least I still have the connection to Harag. Even if he won't answer me. I suppose he's kind of busy.

Anyway, my suspicions were right. Harag's family is being held hostage to ensure he does his job. _Any_ job. They've been under threat for some time now, without even knowing it. So he's gone home to try and keep them safe. He used some device he called 'mage in a can' from his bottomless bag of toys and ported out of here.

But he told me some stuff before he left. The whole 'no witnesses' thing. It wasn't just Dez who fell into that category; I did too. Once Anduin was dead, Harag or Zatso... they were under orders to kill me. Zatso got told about it when he left us for awhile. Malkorok told him _personally_. Basically, my loyalty to the Horde has _always_ been in question, simply because I'm human. They figured I could turn on them at any moment. So they didn't want to give me an opportunity to turn. But they didn't want to waste a chance at using me for their own ends first.

At least Harag felt bad that he had to leave me here. He said he would've given me a way home, but he doesn't know if I'd be safe walking into Orgrimmar after what happened here. What was _supposed_ to happen. If I'm somehow alive when I was supposed to be 'taken care of'... Anyway, he figured this was the safest place for me to be. Wish I felt the same.

I've been crying for about an hour, ever since he disappeared. All I can think of right now is that I don't know how to get home, I have no home to go to, and I'll never see Roznik again. I feel so incredibly betrayed. It's more painful, for some reason, than I thought it would be. I've been a loyal Horde player for _years_. _Years and years_. I have done things for the Horde that sometimes made me a little uncomfortable, but I did them because it was just a game, and dammit, I'm fucking _Horde._ I never _once_ thought I might be happier with the Alliance. _Not once_. Doesn't that count for _anything_?

It's not a game anymore. It hasn't been for a long time now. I just didn't want to face that, I guess. I sure as hell know it _now_.

And I'm scared, like any moment now, the other shoe's going to drop. It's sinking in. Zatso was going to _kill_ me. If Harag hadn't been _thinking_ for once, if he hadn't let a moment's thought enter his mind, I'd be _dead_. I've never asked if there's a Spirit Healer here, like in the game. Do you get the resurrect option? Can you come back? Or is it truly _The End_ , like it is on my world?

I suppose that question was answered already. Ku wouldn't have been so devastated if Brahm could have come back to her. Please tell me it was because his body was disintegrated, not because there's no option.

Harag saved my life. Mine _and_ Dez's, really. I hope she doesn't hate me - or _him_ \- for this. If she can forgive Orcs for almost destroying her people, I hope she can forgive me for lying to her. And Harag for... well... I don't actually think he would have killed her, not really. I just can't believe he would have.

But most of all, I hope he can save his folks. In the end, I guess I saw what Harag's really made of, and I kind of liked it, even if it's for selfish reasons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Fear not, we'll find out what happens next with Harag in a separate fic to be written soon-ish. Erm... eventually... when I get time... ;)


	113. That Fan is Covered in Shit, People: Day 71

There was a hubbub here in Binan first thing this morning; pandas scurrying left and right, various and sundry Horde members tripping over themselves all around... It was a clusterfuck. And of course, I couldn't keep my nose out of it.

Upshot is, the other shoe dropped: Garrosh put a hit out on Vol'jin. Does he have some sort of massive inflammation of the testicles or something?

Shit, I don't have time to ruminate on his ball-size. Not here, not now.

Vol'jin was knifed by one of Garrosh's lackeys and he's dying. He's a _Troll_ with amazing regeneration skills, and he's _dying_. Chen Stormstout brought him here to drag him back from the brink. When I poked my head through the crowd around the doorway of this little building, I couldn't believe my eyes. I think I knocked a Tauren on his ass to get to Vol'jin's side.

Anyway, there's Darkspear Trolls all around, several Tauren, and even a few Orcs wringing their hands. Some guys have gone out to gather up a bunch of needles so Chen can do some sort of acupuncture business to counter whatever poison is taking him down. I'm trying to write with one hand and just... hold on to Vol'jin with the other.

Oh god. Don't let him die. _Please._


	114. I'm in Fangirl Heaven... and Horde Hell

There's a lull, so I'm jotting a couple things down. Really quickly: Vol'jin came around long enough to give a hearthstone to a handful of Trolls. I swear, I didn't even know those things were a reality here. He saw me and told me he needed me now. _Me._ He needed to ask something of me that he'd hoped he never would. He asked me to find Thrall, and help his people. _Our_ people, he said. Like he considers me an honorary Darkspear. God, I almost cried all over him.

So I latched onto those Trolls and we zipped through time and space to the Valley of Trials. I'm in the main building at Sen'jin right now, but I'm going with them. I can't just sit on my ass. Not this time.

I wish I could go into more details, but the boys (and some girls) are almost done strategizing. We're going to the Echo Isles. That monstrously huge tool has got the place under martial law, and we're busting them out of it. Thrall was ridiculously easy to find, like he either hangs out with little kids in the Valley of Trials all the time, or he somehow knew this summons was coming. Either way, when all of this is dealt with, I'm hoping for a lengthy sit-down with the former Warchief. Not to accuse or abuse about the asshat he put in charge, but to just bask. He's always been _my Warchief_. I've never accepted another. I doubt I ever will.

Dammit, gotta go. Everyone's mounting up. But Jesus Christ... Horde fighting Horde. How did it come to _this_?


	115. Horde Blood in the Sands: Day 72

I shot Orcs. I _killed_ Orcs. Right in front of Thrall. Maybe he was doing it too, and maybe we _had_ to... but I killed Horde. I just want to hide in a hole and never come out.

This isn't me, dammit. I don't fucking _kill_. I've tried so hard _not_ to. But every Troll face I saw was someone I knew. Maybe I didn't recall all their names, but I _knew_ them. Hunters I've trained with, eaten with, slept... well, _next_ to. Druids who had the section next to ours. Rogues in the adjacent barracks building. The Kor'kron put them in _chains_. They were _beating_ them if they showed even a tiny amount of defiance. And fuck it, they're _Trolls_. Of _course_ they defied.

Orteza was one of the wounded, and was actually glad to see me. She kind of chuckled when I knelt beside her in Darkspear Hold, now converted to a hospital ward. She said she saw me fight, and... I made her proud. Like maybe the whole time I was bitching about this and that, I actually learned something from her.

She probably feels completely differently now that I've bawled all over her.

But she asked me where Roznik was. She hasn't seen him since Brewfest. He hasn't come back to finish his training. It finally dawned on me that I was back in Durotar, and I hadn't had time to actually send him a message or even think about him. But I'm wondering now. What happened when the mission failed? Did he and his family lose their value as a bargaining chip and get killed?

Oh god.


	116. You Know What They Say About the Dawn

I finally got the courage mustered to speak with Thrall. Or Go'el, actually. I had to confess that I'm so used to calling him Thrall, I just can't jump on 'Go'el' right away. He is _such_ a nice guy, he chuckled and said not to worry about it.

He also asked what I was doing with the Horde. I didn't think confessions of my various sexual conquests among his people would go over particularly well, so I just told him the _other_ truth: I've been devoted to the Horde for many years. I've battled the Alliance and the undead and demon spawn and pissed off elementals on his behalf, in his name. He frowned and asked why he'd never heard of me; surely a _human_ fighting within the ranks of the Horde would've come to his attention long before now.

You know how it is about the face of your god, and how you just can't lie to it? Maybe Thrall... Go'el isn't exactly a figure of devotion on quite the same par, but he's fucking close enough. So I told him. I haven't told anyone in this entire world that I'm from another one, but I couldn't _not_ tell Go'el.

The part he had the hardest time with was the game aspect. There just isn't anything here he could draw a parallel with. The fact that I've played this game as Tauren, Orcs, Goblins, Trolls and the occasional Forsaken was even more difficult to grasp. And do I look like _this_ where I come from? Had to sheepishly tell him no, I'm considerably more dumpy and plain back home.

He asked the obvious question: does it feel the same as the game here? I had to tell him there's no... _feeling_ to the game. No physical sensations, that is. Emotional attachments, though. Oh hell yeah. I told him that because of that game, I would do _anything_ he asked of me. Because of that game, I would do anything for the Horde. The _true_ Horde, not this shit pile mess Garrosh has made of it. And I asked him if... you know, there was anything he could do about Roz and his family. I told him about the mission and how I tried to figure out a way to mess it up so Anduin _and_ Roznik would live. Somehow the first happened by accident, but the second?

When I told him the purpose of my mission with Harag and Zatso, Go'el got pissed.

Go'el: [growling] He sent you... to slay a _child_?

Me: [nods] Yeah.

Go'el: And used your friend as leverage.

Me: _And_ his family. His goons showed everyone pretty early what happens if we don't toe the line. We saw people beaten up in the streets. We heard whispers about folks disappearing. They took Roznik's dad to Grommash Hold and brought him back... different. [shudder] I don't know what he's going to do with Harag's family now that...

Go'el: [stunned] He threatened them as well?

Me: [nods] I don't know all the details, because he was in a monstrous hurry to leave, but he said they'd been watched for years. [awkward] Ever since, uh... you know. You left. About when his job description changed. He's one of _yours_ , Go'el. He's not a murderer. But Garrosh forced him to _be_ one.

Go'el: [furious] [half to himself] What is he doing? What has he _done_? That _fool_! [deep calming breath] This Harag... has he managed to aid his family? Are they...?

Me: [shakes head] I don't know. Like I said, Harag had to _go_. He was never much of a talker, and didn't give me very many details. I don't know where he is now, or where his family even lives. I just hope he made it in time. He was... delayed. [verklempt] He... made sure I was in a safe place before he left.

Go'el: [nods] [grimly pleased] His sense of honor is not extinguished, then. If I am able to help him in any way, I will.

Me: [gentle prodding] I think making a personnel adjustment in Grommash Hold might be a good start...

Go'el: [more grim] It would seem that has become a necessity. [shakes head] The son of Grom... I thought he would be more like his father.

Me: Um... he _is_ , actually.

Go'el: [narrows eyes] How so?

Me: [carefully] You can't deny Grom was a power-hungry bastard, Go'el. If he hadn't been, he wouldn't have embraced the Burning Legion so completely. _Your_ father didn't. Garrosh is just like his father; and you're just like _yours_.

Go'el: [surprised] You know of Durotan?

Me: I don't have any idea how knowledge of this world made it to mine, but yes, I know a lot about your father. Neither one of you would violate the sanctity of _family_ to get what you want.

Go'el: [wince] No. We would not. I can't believe Grom would have, either.

Me: [shrugs] I don't know. Grom at least had loyal friends who helped him redeem himself. Garrosh has gone out of his way to alienate every one of them. Garrosh obviously doesn't understand what it is to be Horde if he's letting an old enemy destroy it. Maybe he, personally, isn't such an ass, but Rend Blackhand's son sure is.

Go'el: [startled] _Blackhand's_ son?

Me: [nods] Malkorok. He's Garrosh's right-hand man... er, Orc. He's running the show for guys like Harag and Zatso. Harag said he gets all his orders from Malkorok. It's like Garrosh... doesn't even care what he's up to. Just... gives him free rein or something.

Go'el: [another deep calming breath] [not very effective] He has allied himself... with the son of Rend _Blackhand_?

Me: [trying not to cry] He told them to kill me, when... when I'd fulfilled my purpose. Because I couldn't be _trusted_. He blew up the inn at Razor Hill. Someone bad-mouthed Garrosh, and Malkorok... he just blew them up. Along with whoever was in there with them. [still trying not to cry and failing] The raw recruits stay there. They were so young... You've been away too long, Go'el.

Go'el: [seething] It would seem so. [likely counting to 10] This is not the Horde as I left it.

Me: You're... not going to leave it again, are you? Not now. We _need_ you.

Go'el: [grim smile] No. There is much that needs to be done. My brother... how did you leave him? Was Vol'jin... recovering?

Me: [worried] I don't know. He handed off the hearthstone and... well... we came here right away. He just _knew_...

Go'el: [nods] Chen will help him. He is a good friend. We... [jaw-clench] we built Orgrimmar together.

Me: [verklempt again] And you'll save it together. Save the Horde. [ _seriously_ verklempt] _For_ the Horde.

Go'el: [nods] For the Horde.

Well, after the sob-fest (and Go'el has got the best host shoulder for crying jags, let me tell you), he assured me he'd get Roznik _and_ his family out of Orgrimmar somehow. Apparently the mail system is under Garrosh's control; a message would get intercepted, and would put Garrosh's stooges on alert. Since it's an Orc-fest under Garrosh, Go'el's sending an Orc who helped us fight, some guy named Gudash. All I can do while he's gone is cry, wring my hands, pace, cry, ask for updates every five minutes, and cry.


	117. Still Dark as Pitch, Day 73

I've had numerous sit-downs with Go'el and the family since yesterday while I wait for Gudash to come back. Since things are pretty calm here on the Isles, he's brought Aggra and his son over. Holy crap, is his baby adorable! I've not been one to cuddle other people's infants, but you just can't _not_ go all goo-goo over the son of Go'el. You try it sometime. See how far you get.

Naturally, I offered baby-sitting services. I think I'm pretty well done in the killing folks department. Got my quota; I'm good. If I never pull that fucking trigger again, I'll be happy as hell.

Of course, when I say _calm_ , I mean devoid of a Kor'kron presence. The training is carrying on, but there's a different... _feel_ to it. The Darkspear aren't getting themselves ready for whatever crap may come eventually; they're gearing up to tackle an identified threat. And the barracks residents aren't quite as lively as they have been in the past. The threat, you see, is coming from an entirely unexpected direction. Everyone's pretty grim.

I'm told Darkspear warriors from all over Azeroth are being contacted and mustered at Sen'jin. They're building barricades and fortifying as much as they can. I have to assume, since the mail system is compromised, they're taking advantage of whatever attunements their people have had applied. Word's getting out. The Darkspear are coming home.

They're not the only ones. I've heard Sen'jin is playing host to a lot of sympathizers, not a few of whom are Orcs. If you squint across the water, you can see the tent city rising on the beach and up the hill east of the village.

I've resisted the temptation to use my connection to Harag, though. I'm kind of afraid of what he'll tell me. But I check it all the time. It's sort of like... a toothache that doesn't hurt, if that makes sense. You run your tongue over it to remind yourself not to eat on that side of your mouth. You know it's there; you can _feel_ it. That's a bit like how the attunement feels. What it tells me, at least, is that he's still alive. I have to assume that, if that's the case, at least he didn't fail miserably. I hope.

I don't want to ask Go'el, because he's got worries enough, but what's going to come out of Grommash Hold next? I don't _think_ you can wipe out an entire company of Kor'kron without the Warchief finding out about it. And you _certainly_ can't trot out the _former_ Warchief without _someone_ squealing to the current one. Unless Garrosh's head is completely buried in his ass (which it likely is), he can't miss what happened out here. And if he's locking down the training grounds, what the hell has he done with the Trolls that are actually _in_ Orgrimmar?

Please hurry, Gudash. Bring my family back to me. I lost one when I came here. I can't lose another.


	118. Back to Sen'jin I Go, Later on Day 73

Maybe I've made a decision to stay out of the fight, but I also promised myself I'd stick close to Go'el. He went back to Sen'jin Village, so I followed. Sorry, Aggra. I'll babysit for you when this whole thing blows over.

The village isn't like how I last saw it, even a couple days ago. There are wooden barricades up, Trolls fully armed and armored are drilling in the outskirts, bats and wyverns are coming in from all directions delivering more troops of all races... Wow, _everyone_ thinks Garrosh is a dick.

Go'el said the Horde was family, and family looks after its own. That is incredibly obvious in the faces I'm seeing all around. Funny thing, though... While there are representatives of every _living_ race in the Horde, I've not seen a single Forsaken. The snarky bitch in me asks, 'How can they pass up such a golden opportunity to eat dead Orcs or raise Trolls as zombies?' Assholes.

My 'quarters' during my stay here is the main building, shared with maybe two dozen others including Go'el. It's not an inn equipped with beds or even hammocks; it's wall-to-wall bedrolls and pallets on the floor. My neighbor is, bizarrely enough, Witch Doctor in Training Bom'bay. I haven't seen him in like forever. We had a bit of a chat while laying out our bedding this evening.

Bom'bay: Yuh come back, ah see.

Me: [shrug] You know me; I go where the party's happening.

Bom'bay: [chuckle] Dere be some who say, dat Karie, she be human. When we in duh shit, she gonna go back tuh her 'lliance.

Me: [arch brow] When _I_ was in the shit, Bom'bay, all I wanted was to go _home_.

Bom'bay: Why yuh come _here_?

Me: [sarcasm] Duh?

Bom'bay: [grin] [nod] Dat's what _ah_ was t'inkin'. Duh Karie _ah_ met few weeks ago, she know where home is. She go chasin' her mon all ovuh Durotar tuh bring'im home. Now she waitin' foh him. [nods confidently] He come back to yuh. Ol' Roznik, he won' let yuh down.

Me: [throat lump] I know he won't. I'll kick his ass if he does.

Bom'bay: [chuckle] Dat be good reason tuh come runnin'. Don' lose yuh hope, now.

Me: [bravely] I've got plenty. I won't run out.

Bom'bay: [sympathetic smile] Yuh lyin'. But dat be okay. Yuh need anyt'ing, yuh come to duh doctuh, ya?

Me: [wan smile] You bet I will.

There's quiet talk going on all around, but I just can't relax. It's like the night the bomb fell all over again; everyone's just holding their breath, waiting. Or maybe it's just me. Somewhere outside, probably over in the camp, I can hear someone singing. It sounds like an Orc; they have a pretty rough sound to their voices, like you'd expect. Oddly enough, he's not going on and on about blood and gore and glory at the point of a sword. Or if he is, he's doing it in a non-aggressive way. Obviously in Orcish, which I don't speak, but I can _feel_ what he might be singing about. It's sort of a mournful song. Reminds me of 'Dust in the Wind,' for some reason. At least he's not doing a cover of 'War Pigs.'


	119. Day 74: Reunited and It Feels So Good

I've been pretty much in another world all morning. I woke up to someone climbing into my bedroll, and came close to summoning Zugzug for a well-deserved ass-ripping, when I heard this:

'Ssshh. Be still, mah beauty. Yuh Roznik's here, and he ain' nevuh leavin' yuh side again.'

I couldn't hold him tight enough. Couldn't get my arms around him as far as I needed to. Couldn't kiss him enough. Oh god, we sure as hell made up for not being able to kiss whenever we wanted to...

And that's all. It's not that I can't _go there_ with him, or because we're literally surrounded by half the Horde in this building. I had sex with Zuti in a writhing mass of hunter trainees without a single qualm. No, we just... didn't need to. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. We'll find some place private. But for now, I just need him close, I need his shoulder. I need his long, blue, _fur_ -covered ears to hear all that I've had to endure since I left. I need to hear everything that _he's_ endured, too. We'll likely have that discussion later, but first we just needed to hold on tight.

There were tears on both sides. Hands shook when we touched, like we were both afraid the other was a dream. I realized that what I need from him isn't entirely physical. It can't be fulfilled with a rowdy roll in the sack. That's just not enough.

I told him. I just couldn't wait another minute, another day. Not when things are so close to the edge around here. Not when every minute could be the last.

Me: Roz... I've wanted to say this for a long time...

Roznik: Ya, dere be somet'in' ah gotta say, too.

Me: [uncertain] Um... you first.

Roznik: [half smile] Nah, mon. You.

Me: [deep breath] Okay. You, um... you mean a hell of a lot to me.

Roznik: [soft chuckle]

Me: [nervous as all hell] [twisting fingers - what am I, twelve?] I'll understand if... you know, this is... not really... I mean, we're different and all...

Roznik: [touching my cheek] Jus' say it, Karie. Tell meh.

Me: [another deep breath] All right. I guess... go for broke, huh? [weak chuckle] Roznik... I... I love you.

Roznik: [grin] Dat be music to mah ears. Yuh took mah heart ages ago. Ah'm glad yuh givin' me yuhs.

Me: [whooshing relief] Jozala said that awhile back. She wanted to know what I was going to do with it. I guess I figured it out, huh?

Roznik: [nod] Ah always know it be safe wit' yuh. Ah love yuh, Karie.

I must have sat in his lap for an hour before he pried himself away to go speak with Go'el, find out what he can do to help. Gudash came through in a major way; Jozala and Chesuk are here, too. Now that they're more or less settled in, I think I'll go and have a chat. They're practically my in-laws now. Boy, Chesuk's gonna _love_ that.


	120. Drawing Connections and Barfing Up My Guts

I had a lengthy chat with Jozala this evening and came out of it sick to my stomach. She was _really_ glad to see me; she confessed she thought I was in for it when I left for Grommash Hold, then when she heard I was being loaded on a zeppelin, she assumed the worst. Nobody gets out of a meeting with Garrosh unscathed.

She said that about a few days after I left, Kor'kron started moving into the Valley of Spirits. First they just stood around, hovering over merchants and trainers, making everyone nervous. More came every day, and they obviously weren't there for the shopping. Then a few days ago, probably about when Vol'jin got nailed, the Kor'kron took over.

It wasn't much of a battle. The regular guards got muscled out or taken out. Those little skirmishes were usually three or four Orcs to one Troll and didn't last long. The people were so shocked they didn't know how to handle the situation. Then they started hearing rumors that Vol'jin was dead.

The Valley of Spirits is in lockdown. There's no commerce happening in there, and Trolls going in or out get 'interviewed' as to their purposes. Roughed up, more likely. Jozala said there's been rumors of assaults on some of the women, too. She shuddered; that one hit too close to home.

Gudash had to wait until the cover of night before sneaking them out of there, and even then he had to be really careful. The family's been watched ever since I left.

A couple days ago, after things went to hell, Drizzul of all people showed up on Jozala's doorstep, but he wasn't alone. He had a woman with him; a _human_ woman.

Me: A _what_?

Jozala: Yuh hear what ah say. He find dis woman and bring her home. He t'ought you would be dere. He needed yuh help.

Me: [frown] But... he speaks common; why would he need _me_?

Jozala: [wince] [verge of tears] She be empty. Dere be nutting left'uh duh poor gehl. She don' speak. She don' _feel._

Me: [startled] What... what do you mean?

Jozala: He didn' stay long. Ah made'im take her away quick. We was bein' watched. All duh time, night and day. He'd not be hidin' a human in our house foh long. Not wit' _you_ gone.

Me: [incredulous] Where did he _find_ her?

Jozala: In duh jungles uh Stranglet'orn. He be dere not long ago, doin'... Ah don' know what dat boy be up to most'uh duh time. [shakes head] He say he find a Blood Elf mon and joined his camp foh duh night. Duh Blood Elf... he offered... [flinch] He offered up dis gehl foh Drizzul tuh... tuh...

Me: [nauseous] Oh god.

Jozala: [nod] Ya. Drizzul ask where he got'er, and find out she from T'eramore. [growling] Duh bastuhd took her from duh keep'uh dat place, knowin' duh bomb fall and nobody miss her.

Me: [light dawning] The _keep_? A... a _Blood Elf_?

Jozala: [nod] [snarl] He make'uh slave'uh duh gehl. He use'er foh hisself, and give'er tuh udduhs he meets. Tuh do what dey want. He... [wince] [shudder] he set demons on'er, and he watch...

Me: [ _seriously_ nauseous] Oh my god...

Jozala: [compose self] Ah don' hold wit' murder, but in dis case, ah got no quarrel wit' what Drizzul done.

Me: [startled] He... he _killed_ him?

Jozala: [nod] He runnin' now. Yuh don' kill a mon like Songweavuh and it go unnoticed.

Me: [blink] Songweaver... _Thalen_ Songweaver?

Jozala: Yuh know'im?

Me: That slimy son of a bitch gave us our orders. He's the one who sent us on our mission to kill Anduin Wrynn.

Jozala: [shock] No! He jus' a _boy_!

Me: [reassuring] We didn't. The mission sort of imploded before we ever got close. Thank god, because I was running out of time to think of a way to get us out of it. [shake head] It's too complicated to go into now. Jozala... you say he picked her up in Theramore...

Jozala: [nod] Dat what Drizzul say, ya. Dis Blood Elf be a bragguh; he tol' Drizzul he betray duh Kirin Tor in dat battle. He lower duh shield at one'uh duh gates and let in duh Horde. [grimace] He be duh one who bait duh trap. [apologetic] Ah didn' believe yuh when yuh said...

Me: [dismiss] That's okay, don't worry about it. [disgusted] That sounds like Songweaver, though. [pause] Wait, you said he sicced _demons_ on her? I thought he was just a mage?

Jozala: [shrug] Dat don' mean nuttin'. It just be anudduh spell. If yuh got a talen' for magic, yuh can learn anyt'ing, if yuh can get away wit' it. [scowl] Ah be t'inkin' he got more tuh hide from his 'friends' in duh Kirin Tor den jus' his treachery.

Me: [wry] Not hiding much of anything now.

Jozala: Duh Horde be a bettuh place wit'out scum like _him_ in it.

Me: You've got _that_ right. So where's Drizzul now?

Jozala: [shake head] Ah don' know. He left quick, befo' duh Kor'kron could find out he was dere. He ain' a healuh; dis gonna be a hard time foh him. [slight smile] He already lost to her.

Me: What do you mean?

Jozala: [knowing smile] Ah know duh boys in dis family well. Dere hearts go jus' dat quick. [snap fingers] He don' see it now, an' he likely get pissed if anybody say he gonna make a mate'uh dis gal. Not aftuh what she been t'rough. He be _insulted_ if anybody say he gonna so much as touch her. But ah can see it in dere... he gonna put 'is heart and soul intuh her healin'. He ain' gonna get neithuh of'em back.

I'm close to throwing up just thinking about this woman. I wish I could flip back to that entry during Brewfest where Ku was telling me about Theramore, but my diary is still in Orgrimmar. I'm almost _sure_ she said something about that Blood Elf being 'interested' in one of the guards. I guess the guard was this woman. What's left of her, anyway. God, I'm going to be sick. Raped by assholes is bad enough, but raped by demons?

Drizzul, if I ever see you again, and I damn well better, I'm going to give you such a huge hug. You take care of that lady, or you'll have _me_ to answer to. You know... after your mom and your aunt kick your ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Stay tuned. We'll be seeing a fic about this little mess Drizzul's gotten himself into when I get a chance. :) And lore be damned, Songweaver was conveniently placed to be the ass in my stories, and asses get chewed. ;)


	121. Day 75: Unexpectedly, the Expected Exceeds Expectations

I'm not sure I can put this into words, and god knows I don't want to write a blow-by-blow account of my first time with Roz. But... well... the earth moved. That's pretty much the upshot. You can tell this is a fantasy world when making love for the first time with a new partner shifts the planetary alignment, calls stars down from the heavens, and results in a screaming orgasm.

Okay, I didn't _scream_. For once, I was going for discretion. But you know something? I can live with fantasy. I think it suits me fine.

After all the talk of bondage and vigorous fucking and banging the hell out of each other, tongues and twats and fuck this and hump that... none of that was part of _this_. _This_ was caressing and kissing, worshipping and revering and _loving_. It was slow and tender, as if we had all the time in the world.

Which we didn't and don't. We woke up this morning - groggy and kind of done in, I have to admit - to the best news and the worst news. First, Chen Stormstout brought Vol'jin to Sen'jin Village in the wee hours. Vol'jin has sort of sky blue skin, usually; right now he's powder blue. Very pale and wan, but upright and mobile. Chen is... well, there's no prettying it up: he's a fat panda. But he's got kind of a Sammo Hung look about him. Maybe he's a bit on the chubby side, but don't piss him off; he'll kick your ass six ways from Sunday.

Seeing the three of them together - Thrall, Chen, and Vol'jin - is like watching your dad with his two best friends who haven't seen each other in years, and boy do they have some catching up to do. Lots of inside jokes and laughter, punching shoulders and other guy things. They're a bit more secure in their masculinity than my dad, though - no one-armed man hugs for these guys. Huh huh. Full-on body hugs. Because they're going to war.

That's what the bad news is. Thrall... dammit, _Go'el_ stationed some scouts to watch over Dranosh'ar and inform him when anything changes. Well, something changed. Garrosh must have come up for air from his lengthy cranial-rectal insertion and realized _something was amiss_ at the seaside resort of Amity-jin. Something that a couple of 'Beach Closed' signs wouldn't quite cover. So he's sending the Brute Squad down to check it out.

I've carved out a nice little spot here on the top floor of the main building, sort of huddled next to Roznik's folks. They're both too old for this crap. Well, Jozala told Chesuk to stop trying to direct the troops and get his ass out of the way. Let the younger generation take care of this, old man. To which he only growled. I'm guessing the whole come-to-Jesus we had a month or so ago has kind of made him put a sock in it.

Which reminds me. Last night Roznik told his folks (which is when _I_ found out, thank you very much) that we're officially a couple. As in _mates_ kind of thing. I'm not sure how to take that, exactly. I mean, I love him and I'm quite content to be with him and nobody else. It's just... in his culture, that's like _marriage_. Maybe if we weren't on the brink of war, there'd be some solemn ritual to go along with it, but in the absence of that sort of prep time, just saying 'we're mates' is apparently good enough.

Chesuk, of course, spluttered incoherently in Zandali and had a lengthy 'discussion' with his son about it. Jozala just stood silently next to me, glaring at her husband with her arms crossed. Pretty much wearing a 'don't you _dare_ ' look on her face. Once he ran out of steam with Roznik, who can put on some fierce when he wants to, it was like Roz tagged Jozala and she jumped into the ring. I almost felt sorry for Chesuk, getting the equivalent of a face-smash from his son and a nad-squash from his wife. I pretty much stepped back and didn't get involved. The words were flying so fast, I couldn't understand what was being said even with the rudimentary grasp of Zandali I have.

Anyway, I'm avoiding the worst part by going on and on about stupid shit. Because I'm his... whatever, it was my duty to put on his war face. Jozala directed me in the right design, and thank god because I started to cry and might have painted a map of the New York City subway system on him if someone wasn't keeping an eye on things.

Roznik's down there. He's lined up with the hunters and warriors. He has his raptor, Ruby out, ready to kick whatever ass comes screaming down the hill. The most advanced trainees were summoned and I think the last of the canoes have shipped them over from the Echo Isles. Chen and Go'el are in position to be the first ones the Kor'kron meet when they arrive. Vol'jin's downstairs in what's become a command center here. He can't show his face just yet, plus he's barely standing up.

Oh damn. Someone just blew a horn. I think it's show time. Roznik, don't you _dare_ die. I will be so pissed at you...


	122. When is This Shit Gonna Stop?

I don't know how to cope with this. The last week has been one blow to the gut after another.

The battle was bloody and awful, but only lasted a few hours. Either Garrosh underestimated the Trolls, or he didn't think they had so many friends. Regardless, he didn't send more than a hundred troops, and they were vastly outnumbered even before our reinforcements entered the field. The victory lit a massive fire under Vol'jin's ass; he experienced an envigorating, likely adrenalin-induced recovery, and started barking orders. He wanted to press our advantage and take control of Razor Hill before the Kor'kron could regroup and fortify the post.

We came out of the building, me and Roz's parents, and there was a scrum at one end of the field. Which was covered with dead bodies I tried really hard not to examine too closely. I was afraid one of them would be Roz. But as it turned out, he was in the middle of the scuffle.

Oh god. He was butchering one of the Kor'kron soldiers. The Orc was long dead, but Roznik... I've never seen him like this. He had a dagger and he was just stabbing that Orc over and over again, cursing and swearing wildly. A half dozen Trolls were trying to pry him off, but he was resisting them. Then we found out why.

Roznik had a necklace in his hand. A string of trophies this Orc was wearing. There were _tusks_ on it. But that wasn't the worst part.

In the melee while they were trying to subdue Roz, he dropped the necklace and Jozala picked it up. She _fainted._ She wailed like a banshee and collapsed. Chesuk barely caught her in time before she hit the ground. I didn't want to look at that thing, I really didn't, but I couldn't help it. I picked it up myself. There were about ten tusks on it, all taken from Trolls. Two stood out because they were _carved._ They had designs and symbols on them.

My brain shut down. All I could register was Roznik sobbing, 'Mah _brudduh_! Dey kill mah _brudduh_!'

They're Daznik's. I barely, _barely_ remember what he looked like when I met him. He was the spitting image of Roz, though... except for the hair and the tusks.

Roz is grief-stricken; I understand that. My heart feels like a lump of lead because of this, too. But god dammit, don't make it worse on your parents by dying too! Jesus, he's so anxious to kill he almost outran the troops on their way up the road to Razor Hill. Apparently fileting the perp wasn't good enough.

On top of this, Go'el left us. Not abandoning the cause, but he had a real 'oh god, I can't kill my own people' moment and decided he'd serve us better if he could get some high-ranking Orcs on our side. He mentioned Eitrigg, my personal cheese-melter, and Saurfang. But to get to them, he has to go to Orgrimmar. I'm scared to death of what will happen to him in there. It didn't help matters that he asked Vol'jin to look after his wife and son 'just in case.'

I'm back in the main building. Bom'bay stayed behind and mixed up a sleeping potion for Jozala. She was just hysterical. I wish he'd do one for me too. I'm sick to my stomach, scared to death, and... oh god, Daznik. Not Daznik. _Shit_ no.


	123. Red Skies in the Morning, Day 76

We can hear the explosions in Razor Hill all the way here in Sen'jin. It's still dark; the sun hasn't come up yet. But it looks like the sun is rising in the north. Fires are lighting up the sky.

It's been going on all night long. No word has come back to us about who's winning. No news at all.

Jozala still hasn't stopped crying. Chesuk looks shell-shocked. I think he expected both his sons to die in glorious battle against the Alliance. He probably doesn't know how to cope with how it turned out. He's lost two of his kids, and he doesn't know if the third will join them. I actually feel sorry for him. For _both_ of them.

I wish I'd known Daznik for longer than it took to scare the crap out of him. I don't really need to have known him well to grieve for him, though. He's my beloved's brother. That... sort of makes him _my_ brother.

One thing I haven't wanted to really think about because it would suck _horribly_ to dwell on it, is the family I left behind when I came here. I guess in the beginning, I figured this was a temporary thing and decided to live it up while it lasts. It may still be short-term; I could get whisked back to my world in a heartbeat with as little warning as when I was whisked here. Or I could be here forever.

Regardless of which way it'll go, I've certainly made the best of things. I've found a family that cares about me. Mostly. I'll probably never win Chesuk over. I've got a man who loves me. Um... a male, anyway. Unfortunately, I've also acquired all the rest of what it means to be part of a family.

Every time I look at Jozala clutching that string of tusks to her heart, I burst into tears. Every time I look toward Razor Hill, knowing that my lover is there blinded by grief and in a full-on berserker rage, I burst into tears. I've cried so much over the last several hours, there's almost nothing left.

I know I'm rambling, but the elephant in the room keeps giving me the eye, and I totally don't want to acknowledge it. But the truth of the matter is... I don't know who Roznik is anymore. What kind of _person_ he is. I didn't have any idea this sort of... _rage_ could come from him. I understand that, in the heat of the moment, with a loss this devastating - not just a sibling, but a _twin_ \- maybe the worst part of someone will come out. I hope this is the worst. I can sort of forgive it, under the circumstances. But I don't mind saying it's got me a little scared.

Less than twenty-four hours ago, he was gentle and soft-spoken, flirtatiously playful and cuddly. I'm having a hard time reconciling _that_ Roznik with the one I saw after the battle. I'm really afraid of what _this_ battle will do to him.


	124. I Take Back Everything I Said About Chesuk

I was up on the top floor when the sun finally came up, but I wasn't looking in that direction. The fires at Razor Hill are getting harder to see in the daylight. Chesuk actually joined me, which was weird.

Jozala's in such a terrible state, she's being kept under sedation downstairs. I guess he figured she wouldn't notice him gone right now, so he came to look and worry.

Things between me and Chesuk are kind of... awkward, normally. We literally stood a couple yards apart for ten minutes without saying a word to one another. Surprisingly, he was the first one to break. Saved me from continuing to wrack my heavily distracted brain for an opener.

Chesuk: He all ah got lef'.

Me: [nod]

Chesuk: Yuh don' t'ink ah regret mah leetuhl gehl... wha' she done. Ah know _den_ ah done wrong. Didn' wanna face it. Didn' wanna be told ah was wrong. Dat boy... [point toward Razor Hill] He don' fuhgive meh, but he hide it. Duh udduh one... [swallow] Daznik don' evuh wanna hurt nobody, but he say tuh me... He say she dead cause'uh me. It be _mah_ faul' she gone. He say nuttin' tuh me again. We ain' spoke in years.

Me: [losing it]

Chesuk: Ah 'cuse mah gehl uh bein' uh... bein' uh whore. [wince] And dat she 'cusin' duh chieftain's cousin uh somet'in' bad an'... tellin' lies dat shame duh family. Ah remembuh her eyes... [flinch] Duh nex' t'ing ah know, she... she dead. [shaky] Daznik... He be a soft-hearted boy, but he be S-... Suliya's brudduh. He be closuh tuh her den any. We argue, we fight... den he shut meh out. He go tuh Moonglade wit'out a word. And now he dead too.

Me: [guilt]

Chesuk: [trembling voice] Ah fight wit' Roznik, befo' duh battle. Ovuh _you._ Ah don' t'ink he comin' back. Duh spirits be punishin' me foh not... respectin' mah children. Dey takin'em from meh, one by one.

Me: I'm sorry, Chesuk. But I think... it's _my_ fault, not yours.

Chesuk: [arch brow] How it be yuh faul'?

Me: Everything... sort of... Between the Alliance beating Roznik up, thinking he was somehow connected to whatever ludicrous thing they were accusing _me_ of... and then your family being watched by the Warchief just in case I don't do what I'm supposed to... Maybe... killing Daznik was somehow... related to the mission failing. I don't know. [hang head] If I wasn't here, I wonder if your life would be a whole lot easier.

Chesuk: [nod] Yuh t'row a lot'uh t'ings out'uh kiltuh. Ah didn' t'ink anybody in d'Alliance be wort' uh shit. Still don'.

Me: [shrug] I don't expect you to change your mind after all the mess I've stirred up...

Chesuk: It won' change anytime soon. But... ah don' t'ink yuh Alliance. If yuh be 'lliance, yuh woulduh run off befo' now. Yuh wouldn'uh done nuttin' foh us, or fuh Vol'jin. Yuh had yuh chance tuh turn against us, and yuh come back here tuh save our people. _Vol'jin_ ask yuh tuh come, and yuh come. [grudgingly] Ah s'pose dat... dat mean yuh Horde.

Me: [moved] Heart and soul, Chesuk.

Chesuk: [pause] S'pose ah gotta give yuh dis - Warchief t'ink yuh care enough abou' dis family dat he usin' us tuh get what he wan' from yuh.

Me: [nod] I do. I wish it wasn't hurting all of you. I love your son, Chesuk. I adore your wife. I guess... [shrug] You're not so bad either.

Chesuk: [chuckle] S'pose... yuh not so bad yuhself, if yuh love mah son enough tuh...

Me: [pointedly] I wouldn't have let Anduin Wrynn die, Chesuk. There's no way I would've screwed up the future of the Horde and erased any chance for peace, just for Roz. The Horde's way more important than that.

Chesuk: [swallow] Yuh chose honuh.

Me: [nod] I chose honor. I hope my choice didn't rob you of Daznik.

Chesuk: We ain' evuh gonna know. Mebbe... it don' mattuh.

I have to say, I didn't think the old man had it in him, but he damn near cried a few times. He came _this close_. If he'd let go, I would've been right there with him. Like drinking, it's better not to do it alone.

I confess it's been easier thinking of Chesuk as a dick and a loser, a sexist asstard and tyrannical patriarch. But deep down, he's a dad, and he's lost two out of three children in ways he can't even muster pride about. The fate of the third hangs in the balance, but ultimately, Roznik's fighting members of the Horde, not the Alliance.

At least if the Alliance killed Roznik in a battle like this, that would have been cause for chest-puffing bragadacio on Chesuk's part. Things aren't so cut and dry in this case. Maybe the Kor'kron is peopled by asshats now, but they're still _technically_ the Horde. They're following the Warchief's orders. We're in open rebellion against the Warchief, and our own faction. So are _we_ still Horde?


	125. A Much-Needed Air-Clearing Kicks Off Day 77

We took Razor Hill, but I was a little... uncertain.

Roznik made it through with an impressive array of battle scars and a grim look about him. I didn't know if I'd ever see him smile again. When he rode his raptor into Sen'jin with a few others delivering the news, I was so relieved I almost cried, but when he got close, I hesitated to embrace him. He's not stupid; he noticed. There was an awkward moment where we just stood a few feet apart without speaking. I'm not gonna lie; I wasn't sure he wouldn't flip out again. That's what was going through my head. Maybe he guessed that, because the first thing he did was apologize. I felt kind of guilty, being so stand-offish with my lover when he's come home whole and alive. So he didn't even get through saying, 'Ah don' wanna lose you too' before I was all over him and the tears were flowing.

My ridiculously active imagination went to some pretty scary places last night, waiting on the fighting to end and some word to come back. What if things don't work out between us? Will he do the same thing to me? Jesus, the whole incident wasn't even _close_ to a break up scene, but my head went there anyway.

Chesuk took advantage of his second chance and had a lengthy talk with Roz while everyone else was getting ready to head back to Razor Hill. When he was done having a probably long overdue heart to heart with his dad, Roznik asked if I'd come with him. I was kind of torn, making the internal excuse that Jozala needed someone by her side in her time of trouble. One look at the way Chesuk hovered over her, his hand on her shoulder as she slept fitfully on a pallet, made me scramble for a better excuse. In the end, I had to come clean.

Me: Roznik, I'm scared.

Roznik: [nod] T'ings be quiet now. Duh fightin' be ovuh. Yuh don' havetuh worry...

Me: No... I'm scared of _you_.

Roznik: [surprise] Me? [frown] Yuh _scared_ 'uh meh? [worry] Ah t'ought yuh jus'... upse' abou' Daz.

Me: [a bit shaky] I am. But... I saw you do something... [wince]

Roznik: [bow head] He mah brudduh, Karie. [unsteady] We come at duh same time. He a _part_ uh meh. Ah see his tusks and... it feel like mah heart die.

Me: [guilt] I know, and I'm so sorry. I just didn't know you were... capable of... [wince]

Roznik: [ironic chuckle] Neithuh did _ah_. Yuh ain' gonna believe dis, but... ah don' even remembuh it.

Me: [wan smile] That's actually not too surprising. I've heard of that sort of thing.

Roznik: [plead] Believe meh, Karie. Ah won' be doin' it again. It don' make meh proud dat ah had it in meh tuh... But yuh saw dat necklace. Daz wasn' duh on'y one dat bastuhd kill.

Me: [nod] I know. [deep breath] You just seemed so... anxious to make more of them pay...

Roznik: [shame] Ah know dat, and... ah'm sorry. Foh a minute dere, I t'ought any greenskin be fair game. Ah t'ink _all_ duh Orcs be on Garrosh's side. But duh Orcs at Razuh Hill... dey was in _cages_ , Karie. Duh Kor'kron di'n' wan' no fuss from'em and t'rew dem intuh cages, same as duh Darkspear dat be dere.

Me: [stun] You're kidding me. Trainers too? Or just the merchants?

Roznik: All'uh dem. It be jus' like in Orgrimmar; any dat speak agains' duh Warchief, dey don' let'em speak again.

Me: [do the math] What about Korky? Did you see much of her after I left?

Roznik: Nah, mon, she disappear. Mebbe duh day aftuh yuh leave.

Me: [stricken] They didn't... kill her, did they?

Roznik: [shrug] Ah don' know. Ah don' t'ink so. Couple'uh Kor'kron come by duh hut lookin' foh her. Dey t'ink she still wit' _us_. Dey not too happy when we say we ain' seen her. [smirk] Dey miss out gettin' rid'uh her cause she see'em comin' and escape. Dat's what _ah_ t'ink.

Me: [relief] That's good. [sheepish] By the way... you wouldn't.. happen to know her name, would you? Her _real_ name?

Roznik: [chuckle] She be called Renkha.

Me: [nod] I hope, wherever she is, she's safe.

[awkward silence]

Roznik: So... yuh gonna come tuh Razuh Hill? Dere's housin' in duh inn and duh barracks. Ah already got uh bunk. Ah t'ink... it be big enough foh us bot'... [hopeful]

Me: [wry smile] Horny bastard.

Roznik: [grin - thank god] Hey, ah make uh promise, ya? Like ah got uh purpose. [wink]

Me: [surprise] In a barracks full of Horde troops?

Roznik: [amused shrug] Yuh gonna go all shy on meh, we go intuh duh desert. Plenty uh ravines...

Me: [grimace] _And_ scorpids. Are you nuts?

Roznik: [chuckle] Ah t'ink Zugzug an' Ruby keep'em busy.

Me: [fond smile] I've missed you, Roz.

Roznik: Ah miss yuh, too. Can' tell yuh how glad ah am dat yuh here. [misty-eyed] Ah worry... an' ah di'n' hear nothin'...

Me: [frown] I sent you a letter from Grom'gol... didn't you get it?

Roznik: [shake head] Nah, mon. Nuttin' come in duh mail foh weeks now. [glower] Dat be Malkorok's doin'. He keepin' an eye on t'ings while Garrosh be gone...

Me: [startle] Gone? What do you mean? _Gone_ gone? Like, not in Orgrimmar kind of gone?

Roznik: Ya. He got his mage openin' portals so he can go see tuh somet'ing in Pandaria. Duh rumors be all ovuh Orgrimmar when he gone. [smirk] He be so deep in everybody's bidness, he don' know how deep dey be in _his_. Can' shit wit'out everybody findin' out about it. [snicker]

Me: [sage nod] Yep, that's how it is for dictators. Can't hide a thing. So... anyone know what he's up to?

Roznik: [shake head] Nah, just dat he leavin'. Den he come back not long aftuh. Some say he diggin' 'round in dat land, lookin' foh some rare t'ing dat gives yuh powuh, but nobody know fuh sure. He be gone when Gudash come foh us, or we might'uh had more uv'uh problem gettin' out. [thoughtful] Ah t'ink duh lates' was dat Malkorok be gone, too.

Me: That doesn't sound good.

Roznik: [snarl] Ain' nuttin' dat mon do dat any good.

It was a relief just to sit and talk with Roz. The conversation put me more at ease, anyway.

We're actually in the inn, not the barracks, but it's little different. The walls are lined with more beds than I remember, and they're pretty roomy. I suppose that's to accommodate Tauren. The innkeeper, though... he's not the same guy who took care of me and Drizzul. I couldn't bring myself to ask any questions about that.


	126. The Darkspear Tribe Becomes al Quaeda

Vol'jin gave us a rallying speech this morning, and I have to say, I left feeling really disturbed. The first foray in the Barrens pretty much did it.

No, I didn't go. I'm perfectly content right here in Razor Hill. But Roznik took off like a shot. His leader... _our_ leader needs us to step up, and a load of folks did some stepping.

It's evening now, and Roznik has just collapsed in a bunk. The rebels took a tour of the Barrens and came back saying that when nobody was looking, Garrosh set up resource collection stations. There's a frickin' lumberyard in the mountains; he's stripping the trees from the north along the border with Ashenvale. There's an even _bigger_ oil field on the plains near the Sludge Fens (like that isn't eyesore enough). In the vicinity of the Crossroads, a mass production butchering facility has sprung up. And west of Ratchett... Holy crap. That plateau where the raptors run free is gutted. Earth elementals have been enslaved and are dragging stone up from the depths. Someone said they saw these weird flaming dog-like critters patrolling the site.

Believe it or not, that's not the disturbing part. _This_ is the disturbing part: Vol'jin has everyone who can handle the job going out to these locations to steal the resources. We need to feed the troops and build siege engines and weapons, because hell yes, he's taking it all the way up Garrosh's ass. Normally I'd be in the front row of the cheering section for that. But what we're doing to _get_ these resources is a little...

Okay, let's be honest here. Maybe from our point of view, this is a rebellion. We're revolutionaries liberating our oppressed comrades. We're freeing the Horde from the chains of a tyrannical overlord. We're stickin' it to The Man.

But we're also targeting the labor force. We're infiltrating centers of industry, killing civilians, looting the stores, and blowing up buildings and vehicles. Maybe Vol'jin calls this vengeance against Garrosh, a poke in Garrosh's eye, something not even a power-blinded idiot like Garrosh could miss, but I call it terrorism. And Roznik is right in the middle of it.

I can't just ignore what this is, even if I understand on some level why we're doing what we're doing. I'm highly conflicted; in my world, this sort of thing gains the condemnation of every civilized country on the map. On the other hand... well... there really _isn't_ another hand, is there? All I can hope for, I guess, is that it won't last much longer.


	127. Day 78: As Expected, the Alliance Smells Blood in the Water and Starts to Feed

I have had the weirdest god damned day. It's been like a roller coaster ride. First, Kuadanath showed up, and I about crapped. I was so glad to see her! Still a bit aloof and distant, but alive and more-or-less well. Can't argue with that. But did _she_ ever have some gossip to share. She made a friend. Sort of. And she's a _Night Elf_. WTF?

Juicy gossip first. Garrosh has had Goblins and members of the Reliquary excavating the living shit out of Pandaria, looking for a _bell_. Yeah. A _bell_. I don't care how divine the damn thing is, it's a frickin' _bell_. Now, the Reliquary is made up of folks who would be considered at least reasonably professional archaeologists back home. Do as little damage to the site as possible, catalogue and document and be really god damned careful not to disturb anything. The Goblins, on the other hand...

Well, they've apparently been leaving craters the size of Orgrimmar in their wake.

Ku has been doing some covert stuff for Baine Bloodhoof, keeping an eye on Garrosh's activities out there. She actually witnessed this bell thing being unearthed (and it's _huge_ \- not like one of those little hand-held tinkly things), getting swiped by the Alliance, retrieved again by us (which she helped do - I do not even want to imagine how scary it must have been for a _hunter_ to trust a stealth field made by frickin' Goblins while traipsing through _Darnassus_ , for Pete's sake), then banged by His Nibs. And not in _that_ way.

It's taken me awhile to calm myself down. When the bell was going to be struck, Ku was called there to bear witness to Garrosh's incredible insanity. This Night Elf named Sharis who's suddenly all chummy with her barged in on the proceedings with a mallet-wielding Anduin at her side. Okay, not _chummy_ , but not pulling a gun. Under the present circumstances, that's pretty fuckin' chummy. They saw the bell get shattered and crush poor Anduin, and they had a 'moment.' While Garrosh was crowing about the Night Elf taking this news back home and rubbing Varian's face in it that his son was dead (dick), Sharis and Ku kept mum about the fact that Anduin was actually still alive, if barely. Ku even passed Sharis a healing potion on the sly to stabilize him.

They're actually kind of glad to see each other again, since Ku had to leave so quickly to keep Garrosh from figuring out she really wants to pop a cap in his ass at close range. She was relieved that Sharis was able to report that last she saw of him, Anduin was holding on and his dad was taking care of him.

Why the hell was a Night Elf in Razor Hill? Glad you asked.

My favorite people in the whole world, SI:7, have recruited various random adventurers, and a small army (heh heh) of ankle-biter Gnomes, to jump on the 'kick Garrosh's ass' bandwagon. Not five minutes after we had Razor Hill in our possession, their rep showed up on the doorstep, propositioning Vol'jin. I'm sure he's not fooled by this show of camaraderie, any more than hippies were when the Establishment tried to use words like 'groovy' and 'right on' to prove they were 'with it.' I kinda think anything remotely connected with SI:7 pretty much needs to be scrutinized with various magnifying glasses and not a few anal probes, just to be sure.

Well, _so they say_ , the Alliance is mobilizing a fleet to come hither and lay siege to Orgrimmar alongside us. Oh goody. An assload of Alliance folks have joined our people in the Barrens, shaking down the Kor'kron and their employees for meat and wood. I should be a load more considerate, I'm sure, and remind myself of the various instances where the Alliance and the Horde worked together against a common threat. But you know something? We may have romped in the sack once in awhile, but we still threw each other's shit out the window and set it on fire the next morning. No lasting peace was gained before. I kinda doubt we're looking down the muzzle of one now.

I can't trust this merry hand-holding skip through the prairie going on. What happens when we're standing over Garrosh's smoking remains? Does the Alliance twirl its mustache, snicker evilly, and take possession of Orgrimmar? Does Durotar become a victim of Alliance colonialism? Or are they gonna bugger off once the party snacks have all been eaten?

And dear god, can someone do something about the fucking _Gnomes_?


	128. Frustrated and Pissed on Day 79

You know I had to try. I just don't want to see my beloved Darkspear tribe turning into the Vilebranch or Bloodscalp gangs. But my arguments are falling on deaf ears. _Nobody_ wants to hear it. Especially not Vol'jin.

I explained about civilian casualties and he said, 'Dey work for duh Warchief; dey ain' 'civilians.''

I gently pointed out that they're being _paid_ to work for the Warchief. Maybe they haven't found decent work in the Barrens for years and wow, this opportunity just opened up, maybe it won't be so hard to feed their kids now. He just glared at me.

I tried a different tack. What if the Kor'kron went to Shadowprey Village in Desolace and killed everyone? Isn't that a village full of druids and fishermen? He growled that he'd so totally pwn the Kor'kron they wouldn't know what hit them (or something similar). So I asked how it was different? We're attacking folks that are just _working_. They're given a task for the day that doesn't involve pestering Trolls, and they're getting killed with impunity. They're just reporting for work, dammit. _Paid_ work. How in the hell is that an assumption of collusion with the Warchief?

You know what he said to me? He's okay with this blood on his hands. He's _okay_ with it.

Well shit, _I'm_ not 'okay' with it.

Baine Bloodhoof showed up this morning to offer his support. The rebels in the blood-soaked Barrens now have a load of Tauren supporting them. They brought their kodos and will be handling the caravan work, hauling our pilfered goods across the plains to the stockpiles here in Razor Hill. By whimpering and cajoling and maybe a few promises of kinky hanky panky as an incentive, I talked Roznik into accompanying the caravans. Guard _those_. Keep the Kor'kron _soldiers_ from stopping the flow of... well... blood-splattered goods from making it to Razor Hill. That I could... more or less... sort of... be semi-okay with.

Yes, he said he'd stick to the caravans. No, I'm not 100% sure he's doing that once he gets out in the field with the rest of the gang. No, I guess there really isn't anything I can do but wring my hands and worry until he's safely back in my arms. Yes, I have every intention of honoring _my_ promise of kink, even without irrefutable proof that he's lived up to _his_ half of the bargain. I'm not a saint, for crying out loud.

Anyway, I interviewed Baine Bloodhoof on the nature of terrorism and collateral damage. At least he's saddened by the level of violence, but he said we shouldn't blame ourselves entirely. The Warchief and the Kor'kron have matched us and are retaliating in kind. Violence begets more violence. (I tried not to say 'duh' here.) He also pointed out that the Dragonmaw were identified in Dranosh'ar; they brought frickin' _dragons_ with them. Of course that doe-eyed worshipper of Garrosh, Zaela, would be all about sucking up to him. Or sucking him off. Whatever it is they get up to when nobody's looking.

Yeah, it's not like that questline in Twilight Highlands didn't imply some payback for setting her up as the Warlord of the Dragonmaw. Looks like payment's due. Here you go, Zaela. Got some kneepads for yuh.

Dragons, though. Dammit. Someone told me the Aspects have gone all mortal on us and stepped back from the doings of the world. So this pretty much says that the only ones holding the reins on these dragons are deeply entrenched in Garrosh's jock strap. I think I'm going to just go somewhere and cry.


	129. Day 80: Lovers' Spats Don't Usually Turn Into Arena Events, But This is the Horde - Everything's an Arena Event

I'm in the barracks, and Roz is in the Inn. We're both seething and literally had to go to opposite ends of the post to cool off. Tensions are high already because we disagree about how the rebellion is playing out. Blows weren't _quite_ exchanged due to the intervention of a few quick-acting onlookers, but a lot of fairly loud personal verbal attacks were launched. When I calm down enough to think clearly, when the righteous anger wears down, I know I'm going to crash and burn.

The ironic thing is, the argument had nothing to do with what's going on in the Horde.

Listen to this: The caravan Roznik was guarding rolled into Razor Hill, and like the dutiful something-or-other, I was waiting to make sure he made it all right, not too roughed up, I've got a space reserved for you in the mess hall, let me bandage your boo-boos, here's a nice boob-pillow to rest your weary head on all night long, sweetie. He swung off the back and _laid into me_.

Roznik: [furious] Who duh fuck is _Ugoki_?

Me: [startled blink] Uh...

Roznik: Don' remembuh him, do yuh?

Me: [uncertain] Sssshhould I?

Roznik: [anger rising] Uh _course_ yuh don' know'im. Yuh don' care _who_ yuh fuck, do yuh?

Me: [source = left field] What... ?

Roznik: He remembuh _you_ , doh. He know all 'bout duh mark on yuh hip dat look like a kodo foot. He know yuh like tuh bend ovuh for it. He know...

Me: [baffled] Wait a second, who is this guy?

Roznik: Ah, _now_ yuh wanna know, huh? Now it be all importan' dat yuh know'is name, eh mon?

Me: I don't know _what_ the fuck your problem is. Who is this guy, and why the _hell_ are you getting all up in my face about him?

Roznik: Yuh _fuck_ him in Ratchett! Dat who he be! He come here las' night and hear 'bout yuh, but cause yuh be fuckin' _me_ , he t'ought he wait'is turn!

Me: [lightning bolt realization] Oh shit, _that_ was his name? [shake head] Great. Well, I hope you set him strai- Wait a second, you think I was _fucking_ you?

Roznik: Mus' be. Yuh don' give a shit _who_ yuh fuck. Yuh prove dat already.

Me: [stunned] What are you saying?

Roznik: Yuh hear meh. Ah be jus' anudduh one'uh yuh toys. Dey all _laughin'_ 'bout it, all ovuh duh Barrens: 'Roz be duh lates' chump she fuckin.' When she gonna ge' tired of'im an' get 'erself a new one? Mebbe if ah tell'er she pretty, ah be nex'.'

Me: [hurt and stunned] They're saying that? About _me_?

Roznik: Ah can' believe ah be so _stupid_. Yuh tol' me yuhself yuh fuck him, yuh fuck some Orc somewhere, yuh fuck dat Troll at duh Faire... Who else yuh fuck, eh?

Me: [rallying some dignity] I don't have to tell you _anything_ about what I did before we met. That is _none of your business_.

Roznik: It be mah bidness _now_. Ah be _hearin'_ 'bout it! If ah'm gonna be tol' every day 'bout what Horde dick yuh rode an' where yuh take duh damn dick, ah wan' some warnin' 'bout it! Ah wanna know jus' how many dicks ah come aftuh. How many yuh fuck, Karie? Trolls, Orcs? Yuh fuck a _Tauren_? Yuh gonna _tell_ meh?

Me: [counter attack] How about _you_? How many have _you_ fucked? Should I expect to see a string of ex-girlfriends parading by with 'Roznik wuz here' stamped to their crotches? When am _I_ going to have some woman sidle up to me and ask if you still do _that thing_ with your tongue?

Roznik: [outraged] Ah don' have tuh tell yuh dat!

Me: Oh yes you do! If you're wanting full disclosure from _me_ , you'd better pony up. Tell me _all about_ what my invasion of your perfect, swinging life did to you. Give me names, for crying out loud, so I can be sure to apologize to _each and every one_ that I swooped down and took you off the market.

Roznik: Ah took _mahself_ off duh market! Ah t'ought all ah wan'ed was _you_. Mebbe ah t'ought _you_ t'ought duh same. Didja fuck dat Orc yuh went on duh mission wit'?

Me: [wrong-footed] _What_?

Roznik: Yuh oat' ended on yuh way tuh Grom'gol. Yuh mustuh fucked'im when it was ovuh, cause yuh _like_ fuckin' Orcs, don'tcha? Jus' tell meh duh _trut'!_

Me: [furious] Oh, I'll tell you the truth, you pig-headed son of a bitch. The _truth_ is you didn't last _five minutes_ after I arrived in the hunter barracks before you were sniffing around my ass. What, a healthy sex drive is only acceptable when _you_ _r_ dick benefits from it?

Roznik: [indignant] Dat be _differen'_. It be all ovuh Orgrimmar dat yuh fuck a Troll. Ah wondered what it be like wit' a human...

Me: [eyebrows hit ceiling] _Really!?_ Well isn't that _nice_. That's all I was to you, huh? You were just looking to test drive the human pussy? What a total _bitch_ I was to make you _wait_.

Roznik: [ranting] Yuh don' make _Zuti_ wait. Yuh fuck _him_ in a _heartbeat_. Mebbe yuh not be so puh'tic'luh 'bout his _friends_ comin' round, eh? Mebbe yuh _like_ dat. Yuh _did_ offuh tuh do me an' mah brudduh tuhgedduh...

Me: [shaking] You are not _seriously_ going there. Take it back. Take it _the fuck_ back!

Roznik: [provocative] Who _else_ yuh fuck, eh? Dat's all ah'm askin'.

Me: I don't owe you a god damned thing, _least_ of all the names of men I slept with before we ever fucking _met_!

Roznik: Nah, mon, yuh _mine_ now. Yuh tell meh. Who gonna come callin' nex', eh? Who gonna say tuh me, 'Roz, yuh min' if ah have anudduh go at Karie? It be real good las' time she _fuck_ me!'

While this delightful conversation was happening, we were attracting a lot of apparently bored folks in lovely downtown Razor Hill, because these sorts of arguments _always_ happen in the public square. Maybe they didn't all understand Common, but they were pretty damn sure someone's ass was being chewed and they wanted to see who'd come out with the biggest mouthful.

I tried again for equal treatment under the law. Just give me the names of all _his_ old girlfriends. All the women _he's_ climbed aboard for recreational sex. There's no difference between his demand and mine, so if I'm talking, so is he. To which he replied with the words that have doomed men to the couch since time immemorial: It's not the same thing because I'm a woman.

Oh. No. You. _Didn't_.

This is why we're in separate fortified bunkers. I would have slapped him if I thought I could do it without hurting my hand on his tusk. All of a sudden, I'm not so sorry he lost one on my account. I'm an inch away from taking a flight back to Sen'jin in the morning. He can do whatever the hell he wants. I don't care. I _belong_ to him? He thinks he _owns_ me now? We'll just see about that.


	130. Day 81: Durotar's Too Hot for Ice Cream

I took a flight to Sen'jin first thing this morning. I tracked his ass down before he could bugger off to the Barrens and hide, managing to muster up some dignity and the kind of cold glare that freezes the blood of the dead. He looked like he might want to say something, maybe even apologize, but I didn't let him. I told him I don't want to hear another damn word from him unless it's an apology delivered on his fucking knees. I spent the night sorting through the pages of my diary that went from day one on the zeppelin to the point where we were reunited, bound them up, and I threw them at his feet. Then I hopped on the wyvern and took off. I didn't let loose the tears until I was in the air.

In the absence of my own mother, to whom I would have run with this kind of heartbreak, I adopted Jozala as surrogate mom and soaked her dress. She wisely held back on son-defense while I ranted and raved. She's so getting a spa treatment coupon next Mother's Day.

After all the sobbing and carrying on worked its way out of my system, I just sat shell-shocked and worn out. I can't fathom it; what the hell happened? I don't pretend to be the expert on Troll culture, but by observation and anecdotal evidence, it seems pretty clear to me that, pre-love declaration and commitment, Trolls pretty much give it up left, right and center. It's practically a _given_ that your partner has been nailed six ways from Sunday before you tie the knot with him or her, right? I'm not saying Trolls are big fat whores, but they're certainly hedonistic. _Unapologetically_ so, I might add. So why the weird attitude from Roznik? I just don't get it.

I should give Jozala the signal, I suppose. She's been holding back on examining his behavior until I get done abusing him. Bless her heart. She let me tear him a new one for hours this morning, and all she did was rock me in her arms and agree with everything I said.


	131. I'm Still Baffled by Stupid Man Brains

I don't know whether to throw my hands up in defeat or what. Between Jozala and I, we've come up with what can only be labeled an asinine conclusion, but it's the closest thing we have to explain what the hell crawled up Roznik's ass and died.

Basically, he's a man. That's pretty much it. The evidence points pretty clearly toward testicles and a one-legged chromosome.

Clue #1: Ugoki had me long before he did and rubbed his nose in it. _Get the fuck over it, hotshot._

Clue #2: _Everyone in the Horde_ is apparently spending all their rebellion time jazzing up Roz about his lover instead of gathering resources. Someone should tell Vol'jin so he can hand out some sorely needed demerits.

Clue #3: I've seen this shit from him before, after he caught me with Zuti. He doesn't handle 'sharing' well, which is odd since he has siblings.

Clue #4: He's a selfish git. See Clue #3.

Clue #5: He's a _jealous_ selfish git. Again, see #3.

I considered being hurt about the implication that who and how many I've slept with is somehow an exciting topic of conversation among the testosterone-generating portion of the Horde, but then I thought, 'Hey, this isn't frickin' _high school_.' We don't bandy labels like 'whore' around among the grown-ups. I refuse to allow anyone to pin it on _me_. Roznik better damn well not start, or he'll be no different from his damn dad, and we saw how _that_ little business ended.

Who the fuck does he think he is? Then get this: Jozala found herself contemplating Roznik's _self-esteem_. Oh, now I'm supposed to walk on egg shells because _he's_ having angst? What the hell _about_?

Dammit. Jozala pretty much told me to _think about it_ , then left me to stew. Like I've got all the information I need or something. What is this, long-distance psychoanalysis?

All right, I'll bite. Once more through the clues.

Clue #1: Why would he care? Honestly. Apart from the enticing notion of my willingness to ride a Troll, what is the big deal? I present counter-clue #1a - _the trainee barracks_. At _least_ once a week, there's an orgy. I'm not joking about that. Trolls _clearly_ enjoy recreational, feel-good sex and see no reason to cut it out of their lives without good reason. Good reason being an honorable commitment to another person, not some whacked out promise to a wholly indifferent deity like it is in _my_ world. I didn't make anything remotely resembling a promise to Roznik _ever_... until we openly talked about love for one another. That was the game-changer as far as I'm concerned, even if I was personally invested in him before that point. But really, if he'd hooked up while I was gone, I had no leg to stand on about it. There was only a loose 'understanding' between us, so we were still pretty much technically free agents. I can live with that. He'd better learn to live with it, too.

Clue #2: Who wants to be called a fuck toy? I understand that too. I wouldn't like it either. Most people don't like getting ribbed about something so personal as their love life, and certainly don't like to have it dragged out in the open. I _suppose_ if he wasn't blowing me shit and a few people actually gave enough of a crap to make mention of it, one could excuse him getting pissy about it. But _come on_. _Everyone_ in the Horde? They can't possibly _all_ be asking for a ride on the magical Karie-sel. Good grief. I would _think_ they'd come directly to _me_ with propositions and offers, and I haven't heard a damn thing. So counter-clue #2a, Roz - you're full of shit. Stop exaggerating and make your god damn point.

Clue #3: Someone's frickin' territorial, aren't they? You know, stupid as I felt about the whole Zuti thing, he still had no fucking right to attack me about it then, or bring it up again yesterday. And to imply I might enjoy a good old fashioned gang rape just because I snottily propositioned him and his brother so they'd get the fuck out of my face... Ooo! That better not have been a serious accusation from him. It just _damn_ well better have been a scramble for something hurtful, pulled out of his ass in the heat of the moment, and he regrets it now.

Wait. Zuti. Not the deceased dickhead, but the whole incident. Chesuk said something... something about Roznik not forgiving him, but hiding it. Why did _Roznik_ hide it, and Daznik didn't? God knows he doesn't hide much; when he's pissed, you _know_ it. Justified or not.

Chesuk's a hunter; _Roz_ is a hunter. Is there...? Well, shit. You know, I never pictured Roznik in the role of the little kid tagging along behind his dad, carrying his stuff, hoping one day to be just like him. But maybe that's what's behind it.

Okay, what that has to do with... Does he _still_ defer to his dad's totally mental attitudes about shit? That would explain a good bit of what he spewed at me. But there _had_ to be something else in there.

They fought about my relationship with Roznik before he left for Razor Hill. Maybe Chesuk said some things... Ah man, I'm so gonna murder him if he did! But then they _talked_. They had a nice father-son thing when Roz came back. Didn't they cover this? Hell, I don't know.

So... maybe Roz hasn't... Oh no. That is... Come _on_. _That_ old chestnut? Son of a bitch. New evidence has just presented itself.

Clue A: Roznik's approach to seduction was infantile, to say the least. First he shoved me into a puddle, then he tried a ham-fisted come-on. When that didn't work, and it became clear I had a thing for red hair, he dyed his to get my attention. He poured on the sullen 'tude about Zuti and my natural tendency toward guilt shot me straight after him when he bolted in a snit. Oh my god, this _is_ high school!

Clue B: He has practically _thrown_ himself at me from the start. Every chance he got, he was offering it up. I kept brushing him off because... well... he was being a childish little git, really. But he seemed to really _care_ and I didn't want to just use him like tissues and break his heart. But he kept tossing his body at me, or parts of it. Does he think that's all I want? Or good god, does he believe that's all he _has_?

Maybe this Ugoki guy is actually the only one who said _anything_ about me being a little loose, and because everything I do is pretty much widely known due to my humanness in the middle of the Horde, some nearby folks snickered about it. I'll bet that's all it was, and he blew it way out of proportion. Making himself look like the one in charge, the one who can live without me, the one who...

I see. The one who was wronged because _I'm_ the bitch. I broke it off with _him_. _He's_ the victim because I cheated on him (timing is irrelevant, apparently).

Jozala said something else, kind of as an aside that I didn't really notice at the time but might be in amongst the rubble of this 'thing' regardless. I manage things on my own, basically. I carved out a place for myself within the Horde and among the Darkspear with no assistance from him. Maybe the fact that I got myself into a situation where normal folks would be begging for help just to get their foot in the door is rather intimidating. Maybe the fact that I've rubbed elbows with the Warchief of the Horde (better wash that spot) and the leader of the Darkspear makes him feel a touch inadequate. And maybe a little useless.

So my conclusion _now_ is that Roznik must be in self-defense mode. I'm just shaking my head as I write this. What the hell is _wrong_ with guys? They have _no_ brains. I don't need Roznik to buy me expensive stuff or get me into fancy places or hell, give me really great sex. I just need Roznik to be _Roznik_. I didn't fall in love with the Ladies Man or the Mighty Hunter or the Good Son. I fell in love with _Roznik_ , and if he doesn't grow up and stop being a dumbass, I'm gonna kick him in the nuts.


	132. Shell-Shocked on Day 82: Relationship Advice from Chesuk, of All People

When I go on an ass-ripping spree, it's pretty much obvious to anyone within a ten mile radius. Either Jozala mentioned the altercation between me and Roznik to Chesuk, or he has ears, because this morning he came to see me about it. I was, frankly, stunned. Mostly surprised that he even cared, but completely floored by what he _said_.

Chesuk: Yuh fight wit' mah boy?

Me: [wary] Yeah. Not to sound like a four-year-old or anything, but he started it.

Chesuk: Whatcha gonna do now?

Me: [shrug] I don't know. I'm completely pissed at him.

Chesuk: [nod] Yuh gonna leave'im?

Me: [surprise] No. Of course not.

Chesuk: [nod] [pause] Yuh gonna fuck somebody else, den?

Me: [shock] _Absolutely_ not! Look, maybe I haven't been a nun, but I made a commitment to him and I _promise_ you, that still stands. Even if he's being impossible to deal with right now. I'm not _that_ shallow, _jesus_.

Chesuk: Dat be good. [nod] [pause] [frown] He a good boy. He, uh... ah t'ink he confused.

Me: [sarcasm] Yes, I'm sure he is. _Quite_ confused. He totally mistook me for a lying, cheating slut when of _all people_ he should know I'm more honorable than that.

Chesuk: [nod] Ya. He oughta know dat. [awkward] Mebbe he... mebbe he t'inkin' like his da, sometime. Fuhget who he talkin' to, and... all duh t'ings he know 'bout her.

Me: [uh...] Yeah... maybe.

Chesuk: He listen tuh udduhs, an' don' hear what he should. Mebbe he t'ink... he _right_.

Me: [blink] [not sure we're still talking about Roz]

Chesuk: [awkward] He _ain'_ t'inkin' right. But... ah t'ink ah know what it's abou'. Yuh don' need'im, see.

Me: [nod] I figured it might be something like that.

Chesuk: [nod] Mebbe... yuh let'im be strong foh yuh? Jus' once. [half smile] Even if yuh gotta preten'.

Me: You mean... let him rescue me or something? [snort] That's easy. All I have to do is walk thirty yards beyond the perimeter. One scorpid chasing my ass is all it would take.

Chesuk: [grin] Dat be all he need, den. He be uh good huntuh an' uh good boy. But he young. You... [knowing] yuh not so young as yuh look. Dere be wisdom in yuh dat go pas' what yuh look like. Yuh see a problem, an' yuh don' shrink from it. Yuh don' ask nobody else tuh fix it foh yuh, neithuh.

Me: [fuck it] Well, I'm _not_ as young as I look, Chesuk. I'll be honest. I'm probably, _up here_ [point to head] about fifteen or sixteen years older than I am _here_. [gestures to self] Don't ask why; it's complicated and weird.

Chesuk: [shrug] Stranguh t'ings den you walk abou'.

Me: Yeah. I think I saw some of them in Pandaria.

Chesuk: [chuckle] Mebbe yuh tell me 'bout'em some time, ya? [sober] Roz gonna come back to yuh. Ah know duh boy. He won' be able tuh let dis lie. He, uh... he loves yuh. [ironic chuckle] Duh t'ings he say tuh me 'bout what he feelin'... ya, mon, he comin' back. Mebbe on'is knees.

Me: I believe that would be appropriate.

Chesuk: But... yuh let'im be yuh champion, ya? Let'im fix some t'ings foh yuh. Yuh bot' in dis tuhgedduh now. Yuh do t'ings foh each udduh, not always by yuhself. Even if yuh can do it yuhself. Unnuhstand?

Me: [nod] Yeah. I think I do.

I guess it would be pertinent at this juncture, while I sprinkle salt on the Crow a la King I'm feasting on _yet again_ , to mention that I haven't been in a serious, adult relationship since... ever. I've not even dated anyone for at least three or four... five years. I'm so used to tackling things on my own that I guess I'm not used to asking for help because usually my friends were busy with work or kids. Hell, most of my friends are actually married at the moment, and you know how _that_ is - no matter how long we've all hung out and known each other, the one single girl in a pack of marrieds is at least subconsciously viewed as a threat. Like I might swoop in and try to seduce one of their husbands. The fact that several of said husbands have known me longer than their wives just raises the local threat level. So I don't ask them for help out of fear I might upset that delicate balance of trust.

End result: Karie doesn't ask, Karie just _does_. She finds a way around, through, under, over... whatever it takes. While I don't think for a _minute_ my independence should suddenly be shelved because Roz is having some confidence issues, I can see Chesuk's point. Roznik doesn't feel needed because I haven't shown him that I need him. I guess I should fix that.

But I'm still going to wait until I see him on his knees. I'm not giving an inch on that. He totally attacked me for no good reason. This business of him being my champion... I'm not doing a damn thing about it until he's ready to meet me halfway.


	133. Day 83: You Know I Couldn't Keep My Nose Out of It For Long

My excuse for securing a bunk in the Razor Hill inn as far from the one Roznik claimed as I can get and still be in the building, is that we don't have CNN in Sen'jin. Very few runners are delivering any news of what's going on, and I just hate not knowing what the hell's going on. So there you go. Disclaimer has been... erm... disclaimed.

Even though the caravans haven't started coming in yet today, and therefore Roznik isn't here either, I can't muster the courage to walk around out in the town or venture up the hill to where Vol'jin and Baine are directing traffic. Mostly because I'm a tremendous coward; I'd barely gotten my feet on the ground from the bat flight in when a couple of Trolls spotted me and started pointing and whispering. Great. Being 'famous' has its downside, I'm coming to find out.

At this point, while I hide in the back corner, I've learned that the Alliance have moved in and made themselves at home up on the ridge. They've got their own little headquarters and haphazard tent city near enough to Vol'jin's base of operations that they can, presumably, coordinate. Right. I've also heard there's a crap-ton of bloodshed out in the Barrens, and not all of it involving the Kor'kron.

Did _nobody_ see this coming? You pull two warring factions into a room together, and they're going to beat the living shit out of each other. I've only been here for a few hours, and I've already seen the wounded and heard the complaints. 'We fought alongside those Alliance bastards to take out one of Garrosh's commanders, and then they turned on us.' I'm sure the same story is being told in the Alliance camp as well.

If this were a military operation, Vol'jin and whoever the Alliance guy in charge is would be able to rein in some of this shit. Establish some rules of engagement or just fucking tell them not to punch the other guys in the face two seconds after joining forces against a common enemy. But the majority of the folks on both sides who are out there stealing resources at the point of a gun - often from _each other_ \- are random adventurers and not a few vigilantes, I wouldn't be surprised. At least on the Horde side, I think the majority are in the 'dedicated to the cause' category. The rest just want to get even, now that the Alliance is involved. I may not have taken a head count before I left, but even I'm not stupid enough to miss that there are a whole bunch more Hordies here than there were before, like they just _swarmed_ as soon as the rumor mill whispered, 'Hey, not only can you stick it to the Warchief, there's all kinds of Alliance roaming around the Barrens too. This is a shitload more convenient than Warsong Gulch.'

No, there aren't any innocents here, not on any side. We're having a really messy three-way out in the Barrens and I'm pretty glad I'm not involved.


	134. A Load of WTFs and Holy Shits, Later on Day 83

The sun is beginning its long, annoying descent, which can only mean one thing: the caravans will be arriving soon. Not looking forward to it. I've been Roznik-confrontation-free all day, and after the crap I've had to deal with, listening to his shit is not high on my list.

How fun is this? I spent a good half hour trying to talk Vol'jin into making some adjustments to his work orders, maybe use his incredible street cred to inject some restraint on the proceedings, then wound up sulking in the sand alongside the guard tower, trying to think of a counter argument that would convince him. While I brooded, I was spotted by one of the Alliance asshats in their neighboring camp, and he sauntered over.

I really have no other words to describe this guy. 'Asshat' covers it pretty well.

Asshat: Pardon my intrusion... are you Karie, by chance?

Me: [frown] Who's asking?

Asshat: [smirk] Amarn.

Me: [grumble] Yeah, I'm Karie. What do you want?

Amarn/Asshat: [sitting down] Nothing difficult. Just verification. I couldn't help noticing how... easily you approach Vol'jin. I wondered if you were the same woman my... employers have had an interest in for the last several months.

Me: [frown] What employers?

Amarn/Asshat: Mathias Shaw, to name one.

Me: [glower] Ah. You're with SI:7. I'm afraid I can't say 'pleased to meet you' and really mean it.

Amarn/Asshat: [chuckle] If it's any comfort, _I_ was not among those ordered to follow you night and day. My task was... related, but elsewhere.

Me: [narrow eyes] [do math] I don't suppose this... related task had anything to do with a certain Orc?

Amarn/Asshat: [smile] Quite.

Me: [hostility rating rising] I hope, for your sake, this Orc is out of your hands and enjoying the sweet life somewhere. [scowl] Wouldn't wanna have to mess up your perfect hair by putting a word in with some of my extremely muscular and easily-pissed-off greenskinned buds.

Amarn/Asshat: [smooth] Your 'friend,' shall we say, became less of a concern when the Warchief blew up Theramore. [shrug] So yes, he is enjoying... the 'sweet life,' as you put it. Repeatedly, I'm sure.

Me: [relief] [rating still high] So what do you want with me, then?

Amarn/Asshat: [shrug] Mere curiosity. Several of our agents expended a good deal of time trying to ascertain your intentions. None succeeded. [shrewd] Perhaps you will tell me now, since the Horde and the Alliance are on such... friendly terms these days.

Me: [suspicious] What do you mean by 'intentions'?

Amarn/Asshat: With regards to our king. Were you masterminding a bold plot against his life, following the regicidal orders of another, or was the entire affair completely misunderstood from the beginning?

Me: [annoyed sigh] As I _told_ your boss _several_ god damned times in Dustwallow Marsh, you guys have no fucking clue. All I wanted was to join the Horde. _That's all_. Anything outside of that goal was a perfect example of paranoid delusions on your king's part.

Amarn/Asshat: [chuckle] I suspected as much. Particularly when we'd followed your friend all the way to Draenor. We'd imprisoned him on the assumption that he intended to aim a rifle at the king's head. His... gun... as it happened, was aimed elsewhere.

Me: And that's supposed to mean... what?

Amarn/Asshat: [patiently] [a bit snarkily] Your... tender mercies on the ship put his sights on locating a human for mating purposes. He found such a one in our facility, and they are now locked in sickening embrace among his people in Nagrand. [shudder]

Me: [pleased] Good for him. And I hope you injured yourself barfing, dickhead. Fentulk deserves happiness; he's a good guy.

Amarn/Asshat: [snotty] You would know.

Me: [rating going up again] All right, you have what you wanted, now bugger off.

Amarn/Asshat: [shrug] I have a question of my own. Purely personal interest. Why the Horde? Were you wronged by the Alliance somehow and thought you would be better treated... here? [wave hand vaguely]

Me: Let me tell you something, _Amarn_. There's no formulaic answer to that. It's a _preference_. That's all. The Alliance didn't have to do _shit_ to me. I have _always_ served the Horde. _Always_. And I always will. This is my family; I'm sticking with them. I don't have to explain anything else.

Amarn/Asshat: I'm merely curious. Given your history, I would have expected an answer more along the lines of 'because they're more fun to fuck.' [sarcasm] Thank you for showing more depth than that. It's refreshing.

Me: [withering] Color me humbled by your heartfelt praise, asshole.

Amarn/Asshat: [chuckle] [stand] I expect I will see you again, as you are so devoted to your 'family' you overlook all the atrocities they commit.

Me: [stand] [cold] Your folks aren't doing a half-bad job of murder and mayhem yourselves. At least I'm _trying_ to urge a little restraint. I'm not seeing anything like a teamwork approach on _your_ side.

Amarn/Asshat: Why should we? The Horde butchering itself from within can only be helped by allowing our people free rein. [chuckle] We don't need the resources our folks are collecting. All they are accomplishing is keeping the goods out of _your_ hands. You are buying time for our forces to gather, that's all. We will stand back and let you weaken one another, then we will... [chuckle] [shake head] Perhaps another day. Enjoy your little rebellion while it lasts, Karie.

In the tradition of monologuing villains everywhere, he smirked and headed back to his little encampment. I can't help a little snarky, snotty thought that he's keeping his perfectly-coiffed ass in a nice, safe tent while his people do all the dirty work in the Barrens.

I said it before, and I'll say it again. The Wolf and the Kodo. Don't try to feast on the defeated party, Amarn. And don't underestimate the winner, either. He might bite you on the ass.

Believe it or not, that wasn't the end of the fun this afternoon. A cart came in shortly after his nibs buggered off to the likely air-conditioned spa he lives in. Something about the grim-faced escorts made me run down there. Maybe I thought it was loaded with a certain Troll lover of mine. I can't say that worry didn't leap to mind.

The cart was full of priests. A few Trolls, a Goblin, and even a Forsaken. The Forsaken man was working up the dead guy equivalent of a sweat, healing the others. He'd evidently been at it, trying to keep them alive, all the way across Durotar and most of the Barrens.

After my chat with Amarn, seeing the state of our priests just about sent me round the bend. They'd been stripped of everything; all their clothes, their packs, any trinkets they carried, _everything_. The rescue party, consisting of a pair of pissed-beyond-measure Orcs and a Tauren who looked about ready to say something mean, informed me that these four priests were part of a larger group attacking a pair of Garrosh's commanders. Evidently, these guys are ranged all over the Barrens, directing traffic and issuing orders to the Kor'kron goon squad. The priests were healing everyone as they battled, whether Alliance or Horde. Didn't matter. Not to them, at least.

After the battle, some Alliance bastards jumped these priests. There was a general free-for-all in any case, as everyone celebrated the victory by clubbing the fuck out of the opposite faction since they were handy. The priests tried to retreat from the melee, heal the Horde members engaged in pitched battle, that sort of thing.

You know what they say: take out the casters first.

What everyone _also_ knows is that clothies are very squishy. The priests had to go from healing the Horde to fighting for their lives. They were easily overwhelmed. They frickin' got _mugged_ in the middle of the Barrens, in the middle of the day. If these four guys hadn't jumped into the fray, scattering the assailants, worse things than losing all their belongings would have happened. As it is, the Trolls are recovering pretty well, what with the whole quick regeneration thing going for them. There's not as much worry over them here in the inn/hospital ward. It's the Goblin that's got the Forsaken guy almost literally falling apart at the seams as he powers down one potion after another to replenish his mana. He's going through every spell he knows, I'll bet. Recovery isn't near as quick in reality as it is in the game.

It's weird. I haven't seen much of the Forsaken around here, or anywhere in Kalimdor. Seeing how determined he is to save that Goblin's life, I'm feeling a little... like maybe I've got them all wrong. Or at least _this_ guy doesn't easily fall into the category of 'soulless dickweed' I've always plugged his race into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For those keeping score, Amarn and all his asshattery is well and thoroughly revealed in the spin-off, "Mad Gamer Chick Fallout: Fentulk's Story."


	135. The Best News and the Biggest Facepalm Go Hand-in-Hand on Day 83

Somehow, I'm giddy with thrilled relief and depressed as all hell at the same time. Roznik's back, and we flew to Sen'jin not long after the caravans rolled in and the sun went down. Jozala is fussing like crazy over the things we'll need on our big trip tomorrow morning. It's fantastic seeing her so fired up. Chesuk is likely praying to the loa, thanking them for the second chance.

Daznik's alive. Yeah. Rumors of his death at the hands of a maniac Kor'kron were highly exaggerated. As my dad used to say, I don't know whether to shit or go blind over this news.

I think I mentioned at some point that Roznik and his brother are almost identical. Their resemblance caught the eye of a Tauren druid out in the Barrens while the gang was guarding a caravan. Gal's name is Moonoga, and I couldn't help a little internal snicker over the 'moo' in her name. Poor dear. Anyway, she addressed Roznik as Daznik, thinking it was him. Evidently she saw him from one side and missed that he had a tusk on the other. One explanation led to another, and the upshot is that Daznik got the living shit beaten out of him and was brought damn close to death, but was saved by the intervention of another druid who apparently escaped notice by Garrosh's Goon Squad. What provoked the smackdown, or its intended result, wasn't clear. There was the matter of a letter or something, but Moonoga wasn't sure. Anyway, the point is, the kid's still alive, and we're all going up to Moonglade to see him.

Jozala has big plans; she's now anxious to get _all_ of the family as far from Garrosh's henchmen as she can. I had a moment of thinking Zangarmarsh was in the cards, but she still feels that, in spite of where the attack occurred, Moonglade is still the best bet for keeping us all safe. And she means Drizzul and his mystery woman, too. Once she figures out where the guy took her.

This doesn't cover the depression issue, though. No, I'm not upset about leaving this mess behind and getting the hell away from it. I think it'll be the best thing for me, just getting away and keeping my nose out of it. I'm not helping anything by harrassing Vol'jin every ten minutes. There's a great big _other_ thing I've royally screwed up that I need to fix.

Roznik is torn between elation that his brother is still alive, and extreme fury at me. No, he didn't meet someone else in the Barrens I'd slept with. It was my own fault: I gave him part of my diary. Now he knows that a gigantic piece of my life, one of those things that you can't really brush off with an 'Oh, and by the way, did I mention?', was apparently not something I trusted him with, but I could tell Thrall... _Go'el_. [damn it!] I was tempted to say the subject just never came up, what's the issue here? But that would be really childish and accomplish nothing. The thing is, he was starting to come down off his high horse over Ugoki or whatever the fucking guy's name was, until he read those entries and stumbled on the 'I'm from another world, yours is a game I play, neener neener' part. I don't blame him for being confused, pissed, bewildered, angry, and awash in a flood of WTFs. And mad. There hasn't been an opportunity since he brought the news in the first place to just sit and talk, and now he's ensconced with his parents, trying to decide where we should go first to track down his cousin. He pretty much just dropped the bombs on me and turned away, and I feel _awful_. I don't know how I'm going to fix things with him. I really don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I was planning on saving the 'Daz is alive!' news until it could be revealed in Daznik's Journey, but that fic has slowed to a crawl and this one keeps right on chugging. Obviously, more details about the events will be covered in the spin-off. :)


	136. Pick a Direction, Any Direction: Day 84

We're back in Razor Hill, and I'm sitting alone in the inn, waiting on the family to finish their interviews. Roznik wanted to break the bad news to Vol'jin personally that he's ditching the revolution and going to ground with the family. Jozala and Chesuk are trying to scare up someone who might know where Drizzul's run off to.

I got a chance to clear the air with Roznik this morning, since he was too pissed to say anything last night.

Roznik: Yuh cut me deep.

Me: [shame] I didn't mean to. It's... not something I just... Honestly, I've been here long enough that I don't really consider it...

Roznik: Don' mattuh. Yuh wan' honesteh, yuh wan' trut'... Den yuh hide somet'in' like _dis_...

Me: I wasn't 'hiding' anything! I don't like to even _think_ about it, much less _talk_...

Roznik: Yuh talk tuh T'rall 'bout it, doh. It be real easeh tuh tell _him_.

Me: I had to. I couldn't explain or even _prove_ my loyalty without...

Roznik: Yuh tell duh Warchief? Don' _he_ need tuh know yuh loyal to duh Horde 'coz yuh play dis game?

Me: [wince] It's not because I play a game, Roznik. That doesn't make me loyal in a _real_ sense...

Roznik: Dat's what yuh diary say. It's what yuh _t'ink_. Or do yuh jus' write lies?

Me: _No_. Look, it's hard to explain...

Roznik: Am _ah_ in dis game'uh yuhs? Eh? Yuh play wit' meh like _ah'm_ in duh game? Yuh still playin' yuh game, Karie?

Me: _No_. Dammit, Roz...

Roznik: Yuh don' t'ink ah'm wort' tellin' dese t'ings to, eh? Yuh t'ink...

Me: _Shut up_. Let me finish, will you? I was _yanked_ from my world and dumped here, all right? I have no idea why or how. I've made the best of a _shit-ass situation_. I had a family, I had a job, I had a _life_. _All_ of that got blown away in a heartbeat. I didn't want to dwell on it because it fucking _sucks_. If I let myself, I'd cry all the time. _I miss my mom_ , okay? I will _never_ see her again. This is not a game, Roz. None of it is. Especially not you. You've... helped me cope, in your own 'special' way.

Roznik: [wrong-footed] Ah di'n' know...

Me: You didn't _ask_. And, admittedly, I didn't drop any hints that might urge you to ask. I didn't want to think about it. I still don't, because it hurts. I have you and your family to sort of... fill the shoes of the ones I lost. Admittedly, you're filling some shoes I didn't know were even there to fill... The kind discarded with a pile of hastily removed clothes next to the bed until morning... [sheepish grin]

Roznik: [chuckle] Ah hope ah give yuh whatcha wan'...

Me: Roz, you give me what I _need_. And I don't mean the use of your body. Christ, you told me you knew what I needed months ago, remember? You said you'd be the one to give it to me. Well, you were right. I need you, Roz. You, your dazzling wit, your kindness, your understanding, your honesty... That's what I need and want.

Roznik: [humbled] T'ought yuh only... Ah only had one t'ing...

Me: [shake head] Stupid man brains. No, Roz, I go for the complete package. Sex can be acquired from anyone; _love_ isn't so easy. I love _you_. Even when you're being an ass.

Roznik: Ah love yuh, too. [frown] But dis udduh world t'ing...

Me: [sigh] It wasn't because I didn't trust you with the information; I just didn't think about it. I'd gotten used to _not_ thinking about it. [concede] Okay, I make a lot of comparisons between my world and this one, but I don't dwell on the more _personal_ loss of my home, if that makes any sense. That would be enough to keep me up at night, and we all know how badly I need my beauty rest.

Roznik: [chuckle] Yuh alreadeh beautiful.

Me: [smirk] Flattery will get most people nowhere, but in your case, it'll win you an all-expenses-paid trip to my vagina.

Roznik: [leering grin] Ah'll pack meh bags.

One crazy make-up sex fun-time later, I had to bid adieu to my lover so he could chat up Vol'jin. So I'm rather glowy here in the corner, as opposed to moping. It's a nice feeling. I think we're back on track.


	137. The Family That Sneaks Around Together, Infiltrates Orgrimmar Together

Now that the excitement has died down a bit and we're 'safely' on the zeppelin to Mulgore, I can actually sit down and write. A little decompression and deep sighs of relief are also in order. I have to say that Garrosh must have Malkorok's head in his ass - or maybe they've got a yin-yang thing going on that I don't really want a mental image of right now (too late). All four of us, likely with extremely guilty looks on our faces, just waltzed into Orgrimmar and hopped the zep like we do this kind of thing all the time.

It's scary in there. The kind of goons we just beat the crap out of in Sen'jin and again in Razor Hill are all over the place, looking threateningly large and in charge. Gamon, good old picked on, ass-kicking, don't mess with this guy he'll kill yuh Gamon, was surrounded by Kor'kron outside the Broken Tusk inn like he'd just been subdued after a long battle. 'Subdued' being a relative term; he still had an axe the size of a kodo out and ready to party if those guys closed in. They didn't look anxious to get within range.

I had to wear a concealing cloak covering all my non-Hordie features so we'd blend in. Even had to walk 'gracefully' to give the impression that I was a Belf. Why I couldn't just lumber hunched over like a Forsaken, which would have been much easier to pull off, I have no idea.

A bit of a recap: Jozala learned the whereabouts of her missing nephew by accidentally mentioning his name in Baine Bloodhoof's proximity. At a loss of where to go, but pretty damn sure if anyone could help, druids could, Drizzul went to Thunder Bluff, the closest druid hang out south of Moonglade. In spite of needing to keep a low profile what with the murder hanging over his head and all, he must have figured he'd better pony up about the human in his company at least. Get permission from the Chieftain and all that.

Good for him. Not all problems can be solved by sneaking around. The current one notwithstanding.

I'm sharing one of these miniscule cabins with Roznik for the overnight trip, and we've continued the discussion about my origins. I must say, being completely honest with him, getting all of it out in the open, was like lifting a huge weight off my shoulders. One I didn't realize I was carrying. Secrets kind of bloat out of proportion if left to fester too long, I've found. Good grief, look what happened to Chesuk. Gotta air them suckers out once in awhile.

Anyway, we also tackled the _other_ elephant in the room, regarding his completely immature handling of our relationship leading up to the whole thing. He had to sheepishly confess that my original assessment was correct: Trolls do _not_ care who or what you slept with before that commitment is made. The other part was right, too: he didn't feel the least bit needed. Wanted, maybe, in a physical way, but not _needed_. Every one of the fears Jozala and I pinned on him seemed to be right on the money, so at least I'd had a chance to mull them over and come up with counterarguments for each one. I reassured him, basically. This isn't a gloriously brief affair we'll remember fondly when we go our separate ways. I have no intention of going anywhere without him. He feels the same way.

Funny how the more you talk with someone and the deeper you go, the closer you get to their heart, and the dearer they become. I kind of knew this, being 'older and wiser,' but it seemed to come as a surprise to Roz. I have a feeling that tonight, there will be far more snuggling than snogging, more cuddling than coitus. I'm okay with that. I'd actually prefer it just this once. We have plenty of time for the rest.


	138. Day 85: Where Do I Begin?

I'm at a complete loss. We debarked in Thunder Bluff, which I have to say only resembles the game version in architecture style, and let our cliff watcher escort take us to Elder Rise. This place is much larger than I was expecting; there are more rises, the rises are broader and hold more, and it comes a lot closer to the cliffs bordering Stonetalon than I expected. It actually looks like a city big enough to hold thousands of Tauren. Once we got to where the Druids hang out, and after we'd sort of chilled a bit in the hut they prepared for us, we met Drizzul and his lady friend.

Dear god. If anyone so much as _whispers_ that Drizzul's frontier justice was uncalled-for, they'll have me to answer to. This woman... It's hard to describe. She doesn't look particularly roughed-up. You'd think, after having demons sicced on her, she'd be torn to pieces, but apparently Songweaver likes his lay to be pretty. She _is_ pretty, or she would be if there was any spark of life in her. She doesn't even have as much pep as a Forsaken.

I have to hand it to Drizzul, though. She's clean and dressed nicely in plain-looking clothing that isn't remotely sexy. He stands over her like a dedicated bodyguard and keeps us from getting too close. I look at her and just want to give her a hug, let her cry on my shoulder, but there's _nothing there_. Not even despair. Drizzul told us that touching her wasn't a good idea anyway; it triggers her trained response. Apparently the only time she was ever touched by Songweaver or one of his 'guests' was when she was expected to service someone, so that's what she tries to do. Just the thought of what was done to this woman makes me want to throw up.

Jozala is just as close to tears over this nameless woman's condition as I am, and got a little miffed when Drizzul told us they'd been here for weeks and nobody'd done anything for her. The Druids are engaged in war-related activities, apparently. Most of them are out in the Barrens doing caravan-guarding and healing. The few who are here are training new recruits and deploying anyone who comes looking for a way to help. Evidently, their recommendation is to address her issues in the Emerald Dream, but nobody has the time or focus to manage it.

So as soon as we get their stuff packed, Jozala's going to open a portal to Moonglade.

Roznik also broke the whole story of Daznik's situation, what we know of it anyway, to Drizzul and he was shocked. Then he got pissed. He looked damn near ready to explode. He's been so wrapped up in this woman's recovery, feeling completely helpless, then he finds out his cousin was nearly killed. I'm getting the impression that Drizzul isn't the kind of guy who normally lets others do the dirty work for him; he prefers to have his hand in things. Even though it's completely ridiculous for him to feel this way, he was furious that he wasn't there to protect his cousin. Honestly, dude, you can't be everywhere at once. You've got someone _right here_ who needs your full attention. God dammit, does she need it.


	139. Finally Caught Up to the Twin, Later on Day 85

Chesuk is going to have a really rough time at the next Thanksgiving Day family reunion. There are Alliance chicks falling all over his sons from every direction. You know the mystery druid who saved Daznik's bacon after the Kor'kron left him for dead? Night Elf. Oh yeah. The traditional enemy of Trolls. Any Troll. And Daznik's got one on the hook.

Okay, maybe she's not on board the love train yet, but there's a spark going on. And I had _nothing_ to do with it. I swear. Though judging by her snooty 'tude, I'm thinking it would be poetic justice for her to trip over a pine cone and land smack in bed with Daznik. Whoops! Who left _that_ lying around?

But anyway, here we are in Moonglade, the most serene place in all of Azeroth. Daznik's still laid up, and judging by the smirk, guaranteed to remain pathetic long enough for Jozala to fuss over him satisfactorily. She's pretty much shoved everyone out of the way and set up shop at his bedside. Roz mumbled something snide about him 'faking it.' I think he's jealous, or doesn't remember her doing the same thing when he'd had his ass handed to him by the Alliance. Short memory.

Apart from that, I think I might be on board with that little carrot Roz dangled earlier. It's like this place is forever in twilight or something, just on the verge of evening when the air is cool and your hair gets romantically ruffled by light breezes. The stars are just beginning to twinkle in the sky. The water of Lake Elune'ara laps quietly and gently on the banks. Roznik has shed his shirt and worn his tightest, most revealing pants, just so I know a little rompin' in the grass is a perfect way to spend the evening.

Unfortunately, I just looked up and I can see that nameless woman in a room across from where I'm sitting. Everything's so beautiful here, and she's just staring at nothing. Drizzul doesn't look like he's holding up very well, like any minute now he's going to lose it. He's whispering to her quietly, looking desperate, like he's begging. I just saw him take her hand in one of his, then use the other to keep her from unbuttoning her shirt for him.

I want to cry.


	140. Call Me a Selfish Coward If You Must, Day 87

I couldn't muster the will to write yesterday. It wasn't because of Drizzul's lady, or worry over Daznik's condition (which is amazingly healthy in spite of his efforts to appear close to death's door). Nope, it was selfishness. I'm enjoying this place, don't get me wrong. It's nice and quiet, a huge relief from the desert heat and the looming doom of civil war. But we're isolated. There's almost no mail traffic coming in unless it's flown in on the back of a druid. Yesterday's news flash was what did it.

Orgrimmar is under siege. I can't just hide up here and wait it out. Okay, I don't much want to go traipsing into town and commence bar-hopping, but I still don't know what happened to Korky, where Ku is now, if Harag was able to help his family...

And whether Thrall is alive. We didn't hear another peep out of him after he went in there to drum up support.

So I whined to Jozala about my worries, and she told me to go to the resort if I needed to get my mind off my troubles. Roznik got excited and agreed that yes, a trip to _the resort_ would do nicely.

Excuse me? What resort is this? Leave it to Roznik to smirk triumphantly that there was something in his world that _my_ world hadn't heard about. But it was a way to get out of _this_. The thing with Drizzul's lady is that every time I look at her, I feel helpless, impotent fury. There is literally _nothing_ I can do. I can't line dance my way into the Emerald Dream, and the guy who did this to her is already dead and presumably buried in the deepest, darkest part of Stranglethorn. Or Drizzul ate him. You just never know with that guy. Point is, I'm doing her no good by standing around with my thumb up my ass.

As for Daznik, he's doing _fine_. Don't let his lip-quivering, shiny-anime-eye act fool you. Minara the Night Elf isn't falling for it either. Jozala, though. Well, she's his mom. Whattaya do.

But you know me. I'm game for anything new and exciting, and the word 'resort' sounds like it fits the bill. Even if it apparently means _days_ of travel to get there, for crying out loud. All of it mounted on a wyvern. My ass is not looking forward to this.


	141. We're On the Road to Happy Land, But First Stop is Goopyville: Day 88

Felwood. I don't think I need to say anything else. This place is one Nickelodeon green goo bucket drop after another. It's flowing in the rivers, dripping from the trees, and on the move in those bizarro semi-sentient piles. We booked a room at an inn for the night in this place. It's run by a sub-faction of the Cenarion Circle. I've quested for these folks before: they typically send you out to scrub dirty squirrels.

It's weird being in the vicinity of Alliance people again. I have this odd feeling of paranoia, like any minute now they're going to pull a knife or call the cops. Even though they're mostly Night Elves and butter wouldn't melt in their damn mouths, they're so polite. The Worgen sniffing around the bushes are a little less gracious, but what do you expect from someone who spends a bit more time than is strictly necessary as a dog?

Call it over-exposure to the Horde, and maybe a little bias on my part, but I can't really shake off the worry that they're being nice so we won't see it coming when they nail us to the wall.

Roznik, of course, has friends here. They know him through his mom, and nearly smothered him with questions - how's Jozala? did your brother make it to Moonglade? we were so worried about him after the attack.

While Roznik waved them down and assured them that everything was fine - mom's fine, brother's fine, so is dad, thanks for asking - I had to wonder. Were they talking about the Kor'kron attack? Because that happened _after_ Daz got to Moonglade. I tried to ask what the hell they were talking about, but the subject changed really fast and I missed my chance. But I'm curious now. I mean, not collapsing in a heap, wailing to the heavens kind of worrying, but definitely WTF sort of pondering.

But I suppose if Roz isn't falling over himself to ask, he must already know and it wasn't a big deal. Probably nothing worth getting my panties in a twist about. Probably had a goo pile humping his leg or something. You know how they are.


	142. They're Baaaaaaack: Day 89

Oh my god. I must have a homing device secretly implanted somewhere. We were snuggling and giggling under the covers last night, when all of a sudden there was this loud, rhythmic thumping against the wall by our bed. The occasional vicious-sounding snarl and huffing sort of barks. A very clear exhortation to 'shake dat ass.'

Roznik, apparently uninitiated n00b that he is, didn't recognize the wind up and pitch of the Draen-orgen. I had to educate the boy.

How the fuck did they find me? I suspected the freaky Draenei guy was a shaman with the Earthen Ring, but what, the Worgen lass is a druid? I am so going to find out about these two after breakfast, assuming they come up for air to eat once in awhile. Maybe they'll recognize me from Ratchet, since we sort of had an impromptu competition going. Or hell, from the boat ride over. Their hammock was a yard away from mine, dammit.

Oh yeah. Probably don't want to bring up Ootchie Kootchie or whatever the hell that Troll's name was. Roz might get a little uppity. But come on - this is like the millionth time I've had to watch and/or listen to their wild sexual encounters, so I think that almost makes me a participant. Sort of. Regardless, it's time to put on my cub reporter hat and get the truth: why are they stalking me? More specifically, why are they stalking me _and then having sex where I'm certain to notice?_ Not very sneaky, if you ask me.


	143. 90 Days in the Horde and I'm Weak in the Knees

As it turns out, spending half the night exploiting the sex show audio track next door, and all morning recapping the highlights, does not give one an advantage in the 'catch them before they leave' race. In a nutshell, after prying the Troll out of my naughty bits and staggering down the stairs for some much-needed fluid-replacement, I found that the Draenorgen had hopped the next hippogryph outta town. Probably before dawn. Destination unknown, according to the flight master.

Yeah, right. I have a pretty strong feeling that their destination will dovetail with my plans at some point in the near future.

Once we get done shoveling some grub down our throats (not real grubs – all the maggots in Felwood are infected), we're taking one of those gaudy hippogryphs to the next stop in our journey: Silverwind Refuge.

I can't help wondering what awaits us there. In the game, _years_ after Cataclysm dropped, there were still bodies littering the ground. I'd like to think that they might've cleaned the place up a touch here and there by now. We'll see. Evidently, it's going to take us the rest of the day to get there, then we have to spend the night. Especially now that we're getting such a late start. By no fault of mine, I'd like to point out.


	144. Trolls Know Everybody – Day 91

I learned several things upon arrival at Silverwind Refuge, not the least of which is that Captain Tarkan has an Alliance defector fetish. He doesn't seem to mind the fact that I'm spoken for pretty strongly, either. Like even though he doesn't have red hair, he still stands a chance, so what the hell? Go ahead and flirt like a maniac. What has he got to lose? This devil-may-care approach to interracial fraternization has prompted at least two chest-bumping sessions with Roznik.

For the record (because I think I've already established my stance on male posturing and territorialism, so I wandered off to let them have at it), the grounds in this refuge are thankfully dead-Elf-free. At least half a dozen people have mistaken Roz for his brother and called him 'Cutter,' which I learned has to do with his penchant for herb-gathering. Thank god, because if it was something more sinister than flower-picking, we'd have to have a chat.

Also, it seems that the situation in Orgrimmar is coming to a head. Very little makes it out of the warzone, even though we're pretty close to Durotar now, but the general feeling is that the city will be liberated 'really soon.' Which is probably old news now. I hope like crazy that everything sorted out nicely and everyone's friends again. I have no idea who's in the running for replacement Warchief once Garrosh gets his, but my vote's with Vol'jin.

Ah crud. There they go again. Tarkan must've been breathing or something, because Roz is all up in his face. They're going to town in Orcish. Arms flailing. Voices loud and obnoxious. Come on, Tark, I'm not _that_ great a catch. I'm sure you can scare up some Night Elf ass somewhere in the neighborhood, if you've got your heart set on Alliance tail. Because you know, _technically_ , I'm not Alliance. Just so you know.


	145. Day 92 – We're Going to the Faire!

I can't believe my luck! Nor can I believe how things have changed in only a few months. While I wasn't looking, because I was too busy getting [laid] in all sorts of trouble, the Darkmoon Faire changed. Now it's not a travelling thing that sets up at one of three locations every month; it's a frickin' _island_. We can take a portal there. No sooner did our pissed wyvern land in Thunder Bluff, than we saw the banners and flags. I've threatened GBH and no sex for a week if Roznik doesn't take me there. Naturally, he agreed (because he's not stupid – I can hit pretty hard) and as soon as our asses regain some feeling, we're heading down the elevator to the portal. I'm so excited! Like a kid again. I won't sleep a wink tonight, I'm sure.


	146. Getting My Carny Fix on Day 93

While we lounge around waiting for the Tauren Chieftains to start their little mini-concert, I'll just jot down some of the highlights of our trip so far.

I'm equal parts relieved and affronted that Rinling didn't recognize me. I realize it's been almost three months, and he's likely dipped his wick in a thousand ladies since me, but really. It's still kind of insulting to be forgotten so easily. I damn near turned the pellet gun on him while I was shooting targets at his booth. I suppose it's a good thing, though. I'm with Roz now, and he gets pretty wound up. I'm guessing, of course, but I think the problem is that these guys – what's-his-name-Ratchet-Troll and Tarkan – have come on to me in front of him like he's nothing. As if his appeal to me is shaky enough to be easily toppled when something 'better' comes along. No amount of me telling him that's horse shit will convince him otherwise; I think only time can do that. And a bit of a boost to his own self-esteem. I can only do so much; he has to work that out himself.

Anyway, I may be a crack shot at dented shields, but I completely suck at RC cars. And the lady had to physically restrain me from vaulting the barrier around the turtle to put the rings on by hand. I refused to get shot out of a cannon, but Roznik went for it. Idiot. He got thrown clear across the damned island into the sea, and he thought it was awesome. Why the hell am I fucking this moron?

Ooo, five minutes to the concert. Last I saw them was on a lucky run of Black Rock Depths. I happened to get to the Grim Guzzler at the right time to see them perform. I have to confess a girly crush on Samuro; his pelvis game is fierce.


	147. News Flash and the Crowd Goes Wild – Still Day 93

Not even Samuro's luscious hip action can distract me right now. Their decrepit Forsaken 'manager' or whatever he is came onstage with some announcements. The siege lifted, and Orgrimmar is back in Horde hands. Like, _real_ Horde hands; Garrosh got nailed hard by the cops and is now in custody. There's going to be a war crimes trial and everything. The audience that had gathered for the concert was a mix of Horde and Alliance, but there wasn't much difference in the volume of the cheers. _Everyone_ was thrilled shitless that the pinhead moron got the finger. Somehow even better than that news was that Vol'jin was named warchief! _By Thrall himself_. So apparently His Awesomeness survived the whole trip to Orgrimmar to drum up support.

It's even more of a carnival atmosphere here, with this news racing up and down the main drag. About the only place that isn't filling up with excited drunks is the petting zoo, so I think that's our next stop, just to get some peace.

Roznik is strutting around proudly, of course. The leader of all the Horde is _his_ leader. I'm pretty damned thrilled about it myself, but I think Roz is feeling all eyes on him, being a fellow Darkspear. I wonder when _that_ euphoric bubble will burst, when he realizes that _all eyes are on him_. For christ's sake, don't make the warchief look bad by being a lousy Darkspear, kiddo.


	148. What the Hell is My Problem? - More of Day 93

I seem to have a knack for attracting the attention of pissed off Orcs. Here's the setup: Roz and I were meandering through the petting zoo, looking at the animals. They have some that I never thought I'd see, because they're not in Durotar or Dustwallow Marsh, two of the few places I've actually been. Basilisks, man. Those are some shit-tempered beasties, let me tell you. The one they keep in the pen has a patch in the middle of his forehead – I'm guessing that's where the beam comes out to turn you to stone or something. There's a handler there in the vicinity with what looks like a taser on a stick, just waiting for that scaly fucker to give him a reason.

But I digress. They have elekks, recognizable by their elephantine shape. A cute little family, too – big mama, teenage son, and very young toddler-type. This group also has a handler – or shit-shoveler, however you want to put it. And he has some serious, _serious_ issues.

We were just standing there, minding our own business, maybe holding hands, possibly leaning too close and intimately, likely giving the impression that our uglies bump on a regular basis. This handler gives us both the stink-eye, curls his lip, and advises Roznik not to trust 'Alliance bitches' because we routinely seek to 'crush balls.' Then he hefted his shovel over his shoulder, spat on the ground, and stomped away.

Color me fucking stunned. As if _that_ wasn't enough, as we stood there with mouths agape and eyes blinking rapidly in confusion, a dead guy/Forsaken paused in his work – shifting the handler's freshly gathered pile into a wheelbarrow – turned to us and apologized for his friend's poor manners.

I'm not even going to try and quote this guy. His lower jaw was barely attached. I kept staring at his dark, dry tongue flopping around like an eel in his mouth. _Bluuuuuuhhhh._ The gist of his tale was that his buddy, Dralthar, had a bit of a 'thing' with an Alliance lady who was, near as I can tell, using him as a 'practice dummy' to prep her for the real deal – a round of wild fangirl sluttage with Samuro. Didn't want to look like a total n00b in the whole 'sex with Orcs' arena. Yeah, trust me – that's a whole different battlefield. Alas, Dralthar being 'a naïve but kind-hearted softy' (could've fooled me), he thought there was something real going on. He was summarily dumped after a few encounters, and I don't know if this dead guy was sadistically gleeful or just couldn't keep his face under control, but he added in one of those 'you're not gonna believe this shit' voices that the woman left _coins_ on Dralthar's bed when she was done with him.

Cold. Absolutely stone-cold.

Well, good old Roznik rallied on behalf of _this_ former Alliance bitch and told the dead guy that we're not all a bunch of ball-crushers. I pointed out, helpfully I thought, that I knew of at least one Orc who was pretty happy with his Alliance lady, and as far as I knew, Fentulk was probably married to the gal by now. So, you know, there's hope. I didn't mention Harag's Draenei infatuation – I have no idea whether that would've come off even if he hadn't held a knife to her throat. That sort of behavior doesn't go over well with the ladies.


	149. Day 94 and the Horde Gets Its Own Lay From This Point On

You know what? I'm totally not going to sign up for matchmaker duty on this one. That Dralthar guy can sort out his own shit.

Yes, I was moved by his plight, and I might have blathered something about it to Roznik. He is entirely unsympathetic if it means a deviation from our plans. 'Stay the fuck outta his bizness' was the gist of his advice on the matter. So I'm staying out.

Meanwhile, we're departing Thunder Bluff as soon as a wyvern gets freed up to take us to Solace. Another stop on the Cenarion Grand Tour.

All right, I guess I should also mention running into Jinqies at the Faire. Another notch on my 'mind your own business' belt. Remember I 'helped' her with her weird tail-pulling Orc? Well, it turns out that things aren't peachy keen between them. She was sitting alone on the pier after the big hullaballoo about the siege ending and whatnot. We saw her kind of by accident.

Long story short, her beau, Grogax, ditched her like five minutes before we found her. She was still in shock. Of course, when I say 'ditch,' I don't mean he dumped her. He ran off to Orgrimmar to pledge himself to Vol'jin. Noble, I thought, except that Jinqies is a pacifist. I reassured her that the war business was over, things were getting back to normal now, and it wasn't likely that anything bad would happen to Grogax. She reluctantly allowed that I was right, _right now_. But tomorrow could bring another war. Or her man could be sent somewhere that _does_ have shit perpetually hitting the fan. Who knows?

I told her you can't predict anything, true, but the likelihood... And that's when she dropped an incredible bomb on me. Kind of literally.

She and Grogax were in Razor Hill when the bomb went off at the inn. She was _in_ the inn, as a matter of fact. They were tooling around Durotar, he was showing her his old stomping grounds, and they stopped there for the night. He was off getting snacks or something, she was bedding down, and the bomb went off. Jinqies was _so_ lucky; part of the wall fell over the bed she got blown off of, and she was shielded from most of the blast. She got a little singed (grown back now) and bruised, but that's it.

Apparently, it was that event that knocked Grogax clean off Garrosh's bandwagon. Murder a bunch of Alliance citizens, meh. Knock my girlfriend around, and you are goin' _down_ , Mister. In amongst the general horror of the retelling, I caught a bit of a blush on Jinqies when she described how relieved Grogax was when he dug her out of the wreckage alive.

It's her suspicion that Grogax wants to be on hand at the trial for Garrosh. _Hopefully_ not to do a courtroom murder scene, but you just never know. She said he's more of a do-er than a talker, and that brush with a return to bachelorhood set his ass on fire.


	150. Day 95: This is Not the World of Fluffy Bunny-craft

 

 

 

Where do I begin? We weren't five minutes in Kharnum's Glade when the news reached us: Garrosh disappeared. One minute he was in stir, probably chained to the wall - and I've been in the Hold's underbelly, I _know_ there are chains - the next minute, he was gone. Nobody knows what the hell happened. Then _another_ missive hit the mailbox less than an hour after that: the Dark Portal way off in the Blasted Lands turned _red_.

What the actual fuck is going on? I'm not a brilliant mathematician, but even _I_ know these two events have to be connected. _Then_ an hour or so after _that_ , an army of brown-skinned Orcs came screaming out of the portal!

Even the neutral Cenarion Circle folks are shitting themselves sideways. I'm thinking to myself, who shat in the Mag'har's wheaties, that they mobilized what's left of their diminished numbers and decided it would be fun to beat the hell out of Azeroth? I'm also thinking, why can't we have _five fucking minutes of peace_? Is that so much to ask?

Well, along with the 'holy shit the BL is crawling with Orcs somebody do something' letter came a call from the new warchief for everyone who could get their shit together on short notice, to start packing it up and reporting for duty. Roz is just as confused as everyone, but he's also still pumped on the 'my chieftain is the warchief' high, so he's queued us up for a ride back to Orgrimmar. It's a long line; we've been waiting since late yesterday afternoon. Everyone dicking around in Desolace, smacking buzzards and naga around, are converging on the closest flightmaster they can get to.

Near as we can make out from the sketchy, frantic notices that are flooding the mailbox every few minutes, this army is kicking serious ass in the Blasted Lands. Nethergarde and Okril'lon are overrun. There was no warning at all, and right now it's a massive scramble to move troops in to contain the invasion, because that's what it is. It's like the entire force stationed at Hellfire Peninsula must've gone out for a cup of coffee and left the post un-manned, because this load of crap blew right in like they owned the place. Either that or they wiped everyone out on the other side.

I can't believe the Mag'har would do this. I mean, yeah, I'm sure Fentulk was pretty pissed about his time with the SI:7 team, but was that enough of an insult to the entire load of them to justify _this_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Due to randomness and the desire to take the Diary to Draenor, the originally planned trip to the resort was cancelled. However, you can still go there yourself! It's in the steam pools area in the mountainous border between Silithus and Feralas, more or less northeast of Cenarion Hold. Run by Steamwheedle Goblins, naturally. :)


	151. Back Home Again on Day 96

We're _finally_ here in Orgrimmar, after waiting until almost nightfall before getting a direct, non-stop red-eye flight in. I slept like the dead for a couple hours in the family hut, but Roz was too keyed up. He's down in the Valley of Strength getting the scoop.

Everyone's grim-faced. It's like before the siege, but without the Kor'kron looming over everyone like the biggest load of strip-club bouncers you ever saw. There's a rumor going around that a _human_ is in Grommash Hold working things out with Vol'jin. That's gotta be bullshit. Next thing you know, they'll be saying _Varian Wrynn_ pulled his head out of his hind quarters and came over to help. Which I doubt is a possibility, under the circumstances.

Whoever's running this invasion doesn't give a crap who it shits on. The Alliance is getting just as much grief as the Horde.


	152. Holy Crap, This is Real, Later on Day 96

I'm a little numb. Somewhat freaked out. The rumors of a human in the Hold weren't some delusion; _Khadgar_ , of all people, has left Shattrath City and is coordinating a Horde/Alliance _partnership_ , for crying out loud, to meet this common threat. He's collared some mages to open, and _hold_ open, a series of portals around the Valley of Strength, and as folks get geared and prepped, they're porting over to the Blasted Lands. I got one kiss good-bye, then Roz was gone.

The plan is to drive the Orcs back through the portal, then go in after them and kick major ass. It'll take a while - maybe a couple of days - to regain the lost ground. Until then, I'm sitting tight here in Chesuk and Jozala's hut, all alone in the ghost town that is the Valley of Spirits. There's maybe a handful of folks still here, mostly of the retired-from-military-service variety, but the rest are gone. I sent a letter to Roz's folks so they'd know what's going on. I kind of hope one of them - I'll even take Chesuk, so you know I'm desperate - comes home to keep me company. Waiting for some word of what's happening is going to suck big time.


	153. 97th Day and I'm in Grommash Hold

It's nice to hang out with a warchief who doesn't suck. The fact that he has _hair_ is also a plus. Extra points for the _red_ hair.

Vol'jin's holding up really well under the circumstances. Instead of dropping everything and rushing across the world to smash someone's face in for making his first week in office a complete disaster, he's assigned Thrall - shit, _Go'el_ \- to do the smashing. I'm probably not supposed to notice this, because he's new in the throne room and doesn't want the disgruntled Garrosh supporters staging a coup or knifing him in the dark, which is the go-to response for most Garrosh supporters when dynamite isn't available, but Vol'jin's worried. You can see it in the forehead creases. No, he's not a young guy - he's kind of lined anyway. Probably seen a lot of shit in his life that's weathered his appearance pretty well. But this crap in the Blasted Lands has him concerned.

I don't blame him. The news is all over town that this group of shit-stirrers doesn't call itself 'Mag'har.' Their insignia and banners and whatnot all look like the Warsong symbol, or some weird version of it. Warsong being, for all those keeping score, the home town gang that used to boast a hell of a lot of Hellscreaming once upon a time. You still see the name used by the folks in Ashenvale at the lumber yard.

So whatever's going on, it's got a strong Garrosh stink about it. But _how_? That's what nobody seems to have an answer to. It was literally _hours_ after he disappeared that this shit hit the fan. How in the damned hell could he have formed, outfitted, and mobilized an army so quickly? And _why_?


	154. This Could Only Happen on Azeroth - Day 98

I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Sometime last night, the newly-scraped-together army of Horde and Alliance soldiers, civilians, adventurers, and anyone else they could conscript on short notice, busted through the gauntlet and chased the Iron Horde back through the Portal. But they didn't land in Hellfire Peninsula.

No one knew what 'red swirling goo' meant in the portal arch, other than it probably wasn't good. Well, no shit, Buckwheat. And now, there's no goo of any color, because the Dark Portal was shut down on the other side.

On the one hand, _yay_ , that means no more assholes pouring in. On the other hand, _boo_ , the troops we sent are stuck over there. Including Roznik. If I hadn't gotten a note from him just this morning, I'd be dying inside right now. But he's fine. A little tired, he said, and plagued with major WTFs, but okay.

So... what's on the other side of the Portal isn't that broken section of Draenor left over from Ner'zhul's exciting escapades in the Twisting Nether. What's there is _Draenor_ , as it _used to be_. I saw Vol'jin's face when he got that news; I've never seen eyes blink so fast, like at least one of those microseconds would result in the letter's contents changing to something that made sense.

It's a waiting game now. The portal-savvy folks who brought us passage between 'current' Draenor and Azeroth have set up similar portals to 'new' Draenor, since the Dark Portal is blown to hell. Vol'jin is responding to a request from Thrall - dammit, _Go'el_ \- to send folks out to a place called Frostfire Ridge where a Horde base is being constructed.

I've asked if I can go too. Roznik is living in a tent next to the construction site and whining about the crappy food; he needs me. Vol'jin said it's up to the garrison's commander, but he's okay with it if she is. I just have to wait until there _is_ a garrison to move into, because I'm pretty sure the combination of 'frost' and 'fire' can't be a good one.


	155. Homegirls Gotta Stick Together on Day 99

It's been like a major hen party in the family hut all day, with promises of a good old-fashioned sleepover tonight. Jinqies is here, worried sick about Grogax. No surprise, he put on his big monk pants and joined the army as soon as there were assholes to punch. Color me shocked and thrilled in equal measure, but the garrison commander is Ku! So good to see her, really. She may have to duck to go to the bathroom, but she's having a great time just chillin' with us gals.

With ample use of magic and frequent peon clubbing, the garrison is almost secure. Ku had to pop back home to get some more 'experts' to sign on for support work, so I raised my hand like Horshack. She's assigning me to gardening, which cheers me way up. If they've got a garden, the weather must be decent in spite of Roz's frequent bitching to the contrary, right? I'm supposed to head through the portal tomorrow with Zaggron, her new botanist.

Mostly what I'll be doing is keeping Jinqies from freaking out, though. That's an unofficial task on my job list. She really hated to say it, but Grogax can't read or write. She's gotten a couple of notes from other people on his behalf, but nothing really meaningful because he's not going to spill his guts to a stranger. Not that he knows me much better, but I'm a woman and a friend of his gal's, and that might help matters.

It would probably help even more if she actually came with us, but she's got a job here in town, and can't/won't just ditch and run after her boyfriend. I had to pry it out of her, but she's also worried that he's still mad about the fight they had when he enlisted. Like his curt little messages have more to do with that than with his shyness about his feelings. So I'll sort things out.

Yeah, I know I said I'd keep my nose out of Horde mating business, but when something makes a cute little panda cry, you roll up your sleeves and get right on it.


	156. Prepping for Launch on Day 100

I just had the most bizarre debriefing of my career here on Azeroth. I'm sure there's a reason why Ku didn't share any of this with me and Jinqies last night - possibly because Jinqies wasn't coming along.

About an hour ago, I sat in a group of support grunts, for lack of a better term, who will be going through a portal to the new garrison in a few minutes. Shockingly, that carny Dralthar is in line with us. Evidently there's a stable needing a shoveller. Surprise surprise, he wasn't thrilled to see me again. Nor was Zaggron the botanist excited to make my acquaintance. So yay, I've got loads of friends already. Zag's checked and rechecked the fertilizer, shovels, and rakes in our cart enough times to assure me that he'll do anything to avoid talking to his new assistant. Great.

Anyway, here's the gist of what the fuck is going on: the Draenor we're heading for isn't 'properly' aligned with us, time-wise. According to Vol'jin, who had 'top people working on this,' there's a good thirty-five year gap involved. So, pre-invasion, pre-multi-war saga, pre-demon blood bender. Near as they can tell, the Burning Legion's welcome-to-the-team cocktail party never came off. Which doesn't seem to have been necessary to mobilize the Orcs into a massive horde of assholes.

 _However_ , there are a few factions that don't suck, and we've made contact with one. We're officially allied, in fact. Here's the kicker: it's the _Frostwolves_. Let's savor that for a minute. _Frostwolves_. Roll that one around in your head. _Frostwolves_. I think you can tell that I'm trying really hard not to break into girly giggles.

I can only imagine how Thrall must be feeling. His frickin' _dad_ is their chieftain, but Durotan's _younger_. He may be officially mated/married to Draka, Thrall's mom, but Thrall/Go'el isn't even a glimmer in their eyes at this point. So mum's the word on this juicy bit of intel. Same with any other people we may think we know. Or who might be _us_ , only way younger. So just when I was starting to get used to _Go'el_ , I have to switch back to _Thrall_. Fantastic.

It's almost an 'oh by the way' aside that this Iron Horde is led by Grom Hellscream. The picture is becoming more clear by the minute. Garrosh _must_ have zipped back there to divert and subvert. _How_ is still a mystery, and not high on everyone's list of worries right now. Legion or no Legion, Draenor is in massive trouble. The Orcs here on Azeroth, whether they came from pre-Legion Draenor or not, are losing their shit over their homeland's suffering _again_. I'm betting it's the same across the pond with the Alliance, riding a wave of 'not _this_ time, baby' from the Draenei. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if that same 'won't get fooled again' sentiment is shared by the Orcs.

Now, I've played the hell out of the _Burning Crusade_ expac. I've been up and down what remained of the continent more times than I can count. I am _beside_ myself with excitement to see it as it used to be. Which is going to happen really soon, because we're queuing up, some helpers are starting to pass out our supply packs, and the mages are doing their wavey-hand thing. Portal's coming up. Gotta go.


	157. Mystery Solved Later on Day 100

I now know the answers to the riddles, _Why is it called FROSTfire Ridge_ and _Why are there mukluks and parkas in our supply pack_ s?

It's fucking _freezing_ here! After the steam room atmosphere of Durotar, this is like being locked in the freezer with Chunk. The portal dumped us out in the middle of a depression where two buildings and a lean-to are situated. Up on the ridge surrounding us are a few other buildings and a menacing-looking wall, but I don't really care right now because I'm huddled next to the fire in the main hall with both my parkas and both pairs of fur-lined pants on. And I saw woodcutters walking around _shirtless_ out there. What the hell is wrong with those guys? Frickin' Orcs.

Ku isn't here right now; there's some kind of shit going down at Bladespire that she's involved in, which in my head puts our current location in the Blades Edge Mountains. Boy, has this place changed _a lot_! Or was changed... or something. Whatever. This whole 'fucked up time warp' thing is going to confuse the hell out of me every day.

Anyway, us newbies are in the tender loving care of one Sergeant Grimjaw, who is well-named, let me tell you. No smiles from this guy. No humor at all, in fact. Because the boss-lady is out saving the world, he's stuck with the crap job of assigning the dweebs to quarters, which I'm sure he'll get around to once he's done bitching at his superior at the command table. Awesome. More Orcish I don't understand. _Who_ thought this would be a good idea again?

I haven't seen Roznik or Grogax yet. They're probably with Ku kicking ogre ass. About all I know is that they'll be staying in the gigantic barracks building from hell on the ridge. Most of the housing for the support staff is in the back, where this huge overhang of rock sort of shelters some hotsprings or something. It's kind of humid back there, I hear. Not paying much attention to rumors while I thaw out some. Yeah, I'm sure I'll get used to it after a bit. Not walk-around-topless kind of used to it, but not shivering to death either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As a warning, I'm going to be taking a lot of liberties with garrison layout, building complement, and housing. The game does not provide actual living space for the multitude of followers, troops, grunts, and vendors, but I'm gonna because it makes sense.


	158. It's Cold as Miner's Balls at Night

Oh my god, is it cold when the sun goes down. I thought it was unbelievable in the daytime. I think we've slipped into the Kelvin scale of cold now. Hot springs, my ass.

Zaggron, because he refuses to respond if I shorten his name to Zag, and I were assigned to this hut by the area where the garden's assigned plot of ground is located. We're under the overhang, so at least there's no snow in our faces. You get nailed as soon as you head out into the main garrison, though. Another hut about ten yards away has this adorable Tauren couple in it, Nali and Tarnon. At least I think they're a couple. It's hard to tell with Tauren; they're very subdued when it comes to showing affection. Not really demonstrative, unlike the Trolls who seem to think that making you aware that they're getting laid is just as important as knowing your name. Maybe moreso.

Yes, the ground we're supposed to start the garden on is frozen solid. Yes, I pointed this out to Zaggron. No, it came as no surprise to him. Yes, he has a god damn plan, now shut up and go to sleep.

I don't think he likes me very much. In which case, I have no incentive not to reveal that he snores like a bear receiving a colonoscopy without anesthesia.

I've discovered that a large number of Orcs in the Horde, or in this garrison in particular, are, if not fully articulate, at least possess a functional understanding of common. Which means that when they switch to Orcish, it's _entirely_ to shut out someone like me from the conversation. Amazing how a perfectly understandable chit-chat will promptly become unintelligible the moment I come into view. Probably so they can talk about what a moron I am. Very funny, guys. I'm tellin' mom on you.

We've gotten word that the campaign at Bladespire Citadel went well, so the gang should be returning to the garrison sometime tomorrow. I really want to see Roznik and make sure he's okay. He sent a note, of course, but it's not the same as actually _seeing_ him, you know?


	159. If I Had a Hammer, and Other Hit Songs of the 60s - Day 101

Several things going on this morning. One, diamond-cutting nipples are happening. You can see these things from a mile away, through multiple layers of animal fur. Two, Zaggron has already adapted to summer tank-top wear, so fuck him. Three, I had to run to the stables for some shit - literally - and found Dralthar handling the shovel. He's _still_ not happy to see me. Four, the troops came marching home from Bladespire and collapsed in a heap in the barracks, so nothing more than a relieved cuddle with Roz before he hit the hammock.

Last of all, holy crap on a god damn bicycle, it's like the Thrall family reunion around the central bonfire. Zaggron had to come find me (which didn't make him happy) because I was lost in a haze of fangirling. Or maybe it was the steam coming off the two buckets of shit I was carrying. Whatever.

There they were, Durotan and Draka, in the flesh, and Thrall looking all awkward and 'holy crap, what do I even _say_.' Then there's Drek'thar, who in _our_ timeline was the one who taught Thrall everything about shamanism, told him who he was, guided and vouched for him with the other Frostwolves in the Alterac Mountains after Thrall escaped from Durnholde. You can tell he's got an Eitrigg sort of sweetness to him that'll definitely result in melted cheese sauce for me at some point in the near future.

I'm not an idiot, though. I picked up on the tension. While I was hanging around, fulfilling my duty and filling some buckets in the stables, Durotan's brother Ga'nar challenged him to Mak'gora, which is the lovely ceremony that brought us the swift ascension of Baine Bloodhoof to the Tauren chieftain position because Garrosh doesn't screen his support staff very well. It all turned out okay, though, so no worries. Evidently Ga'nar is the headstrong, kick-its-ass-first-then-ask-its-business-later sort of reckless brother, while Durotan is a more calm and 'big picture' thinker. Good thing he's in charge.

I'd _love_ to hang out down there and get to know these awesome folks, except that the Frostwolves don't speak a lick of common. Not a one of them do, and we've got a couple of them managing supplies in the garrison full time. I've had to use hand gestures to get anything from them. I think Zaggron's making me do it instead of handling it himself, on purpose. Probably laughs his ass off just thinking about what I have to do to get a box of nails out of these Orcs. Jerk.

Oh, his _plan_ , apparently, was not to bother trying to stick seeds in the soil. Good one, dude. So we are building flower boxes. There are some empty crates left over from the move that aren't 'good enough' as-is, so we're breaking them down and re-assembling them to meet these ridiculously specific measurements he likely pulled out of his ass ten minutes ago.

And you know something? I haven't seen any seed packets. No saplings or cuttings or anything at all from Azeroth. I guess that must mean we're sticking to local flora. Probably a good thing. Nothing brings down the wrath of the USDA like trying to sneak contraband plant material into the country. Where this shit's going to come from in this frozen tundra, I have no idea.


	160. Excuse Me, What? Baffling Info Later on Day 101

I just had the weirdest conversation with Zaggron. He is _obsessed_ with sending me over to the stables to relieve them of their shit, which he wants piled in a pit with wood shavings from the lumber mill. Whatever, dude. While I was fetching the last couple of buckets, he apparently received a visit from Roznik. For half a second, I was sort of sad that I'd missed him, until I had a thick green Orc finger poking me in the chest, and its owner telling me to 'curb my dog' or he'd pound his face in. He was thoroughly, completely, and in all ways, utterly pissed.

Um... wtf?

Under questioning, he informed me that he doesn't appreciate 'snot-nosed idiot kids' trying to intimidate him about stupid bullshit. I was like, _Roz_? Intimidate? What the...? All Zaggron would tell me was, if I don't want my boyfriend broken in pieces, I'm to keep him out of the herb garden.

First of all, there _is_ no garden yet. Secondly... Well, shit, I can't even think of a secondly. And I can't go to the idiot kid in question because he's off on some mission with one of Ku's new recruits everyone's calling 'followers,' and a troop of other ass-kickers.

I'd love to speculate at length on what's going on, not that it's a huge mystery given similar events in the past, but there are a few square inches of Zaggron's pit that don't have shit in them, so back I go. Jesus, man. I am a long way from 'fresh as a daisy' as it is.


	161. Fixing a Hole in the Evening of Day 101

Setting aside Roznik's alleged chest-bumping with Zaggron, which is far too annoyingly familiar for me to give a shit about, I found Grogax in the 'mess hall' attached to the barracks building. I'm being facetious, by the way. It's built like one of those outdoor sections of a café, but without the wait staff. The process goes like this: you pick up your bowl of what the smirking cook calls 'this ain't a stinking Stormwind tavern,' you get the fuck out of his face, you sit your ass down, and then you jam it down your throat or he'll do it for you. He was considerate enough to provide the instructions in common so I'd understand. He should make a poster of the rules, with pictures. In case I have any questions later.

Anyway, Grogax was spared the afternoon jaunt with the follower - someone named Olin Umberhide, I heard - so I sat with him and asked him about Jinqies. He looked kind of nervous and somewhat shifty-eyed. Not sure why.

Grogax: Why do ya wanna know?

Me: Well, she was really upset when I talked to her a couple days ago.

Grogax: [frown] Really?

Me: She thinks you're mad at her. The short little messages haven't really helped.

Grogax: [sullen] Don't have much choice. They're checkin' the mail and shit. Can't really tell her... what I wanna tell her.

Me: It's okay now. Vol'jin put a stop to Malkorok's nosey bullshit. Nobody's reading the mail anymore. [kindly] I know how hard it can be. Sometimes, you have so much you want to say, and the words just... [helpless hand fluttering] If you want, you can tell me what you want to say, and I'll... I don't know, pretty it up for you.

Grogax: I dunno...

Me: I have an amazing vocabulary. And I'm a pretty fair speller.

Grogax: [grasping] I wanna say... I wanna tell her...

Me: Should I get a pen ready?

Yeah, if you think I'm going to come right out and tell him I know he's illiterate, you're high. Poor guy couldn't even look me in the face. Now, I'm not going to put a copy of his letter into my diary, but the gist was that he's sorry about 'the whole thing' (which he didn't elaborate on), and he didn't mean any of 'that shit he said' (no idea). He hopes she can forgive him, and he really misses her.

Gotta admit, I nearly died when he blushed and said, "And tell her, um, I miss her tail." Jesus, a tough-as-nails, battle-hardened Orc in love with your homegirl is cute as all hell.


	162. Someone Let the Dogs of War Crap on the Floor on Day 102

I'm still shaking in all six layers of my boots, parka, snow pants, ski gloves, and hood. The peons are hauling bodies out by the cartload and dumping them in the lava pools down the hill. Not the brave garrison folks, though - the few who didn't make it are getting honorable burials in the little graveyard around the corner from our herb-garden-in-the-making.

What all that means is that at the crack of god damn dawn, the well-known point in the day where I'm at my least bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, an assload of really pissed Orcs launched an attack on the garrison. I heard they were called 'Thunderlords' or something. Whatever, they didn't like our landscaping, didn't want us on their lawn, and put other neighborhood associations I've had to deal with to utter shame. Those of us without an ounce of courage - me - had two choices: stay in the open as a target, or hide. I chose 'hide.'

There must've been fifty of us jammed into the town hall, with beefy guards at the door to protect us. The little Goblin miners; Mak'jin and Rak'jin setting up the fishing shack near the garden; me, Zaggron, and our Tauren buddies; the entire contingent of stable hands, including Dralthar, who'd clearly been mucking stalls when the other shit hit the fan; a good dozen or so shirtless woodcutters from the lumber yard looking tough and mean with their pumped-up bods and shiny axes, like they had every intention of being the last line of defense if things got bad, so it was lucky for the Thunderlords that they were under orders to hide with the rest of the milktoasts in the hall; merchants I've dealt with and storehouse folks I haven't met yet, but know on sight. Everyone else was out there kicking ass. There were explosions and guns going off, shouting, horns blowing, the cries of some really big, angry animal someone said must be a rylek, rumors of Alliance spies taking advantage of the chaos (thank goodness no one looked at _me_ when that was mentioned)... It was a struggle to keep my pants dry, let me tell you.

But in the end, the garrison held. Kuadanath was here, along with the majority of her soldiers. I didn't see anything from my spot way at the back of the hall behind boxes and barrels and under a tarp, but I'm sure it was a glorious battle.

The boys were fine. Roznik barely let me verify that Grogax survived before he was leading me to my hut for some quality snogging. We need to figure out how to screw without me having to remove one single stitch of clothing, because even in between the hot springs and a lava pool, it's still ridiculously cold.

FYI, Zaggron does not think it's funny when he walks in on his roommate getting her jollies with a Troll, even if we weren't on _his_ god damn bed, so get the fuck over it.


	163. Another Timewarp-Related Freak Out Moment on Day 103

You know how you run into something so incredibly, hugely, amazingly WTF and you just _have_ to crow about it, but it's exactly the sort of thing that was the main topic of conversation during your pre-assignment debriefing, so you have to shut your pie hole or get in loads of trouble?

So, like I said, I played the daylights out of _Burning Crusade_. I smacked Illidan on the nose with a rolled up newspaper. I set Kael'thas's gorgeous wardrobe on fire. _Twice_. I did the rep grinds. In particular, the Netherwing rep grind. And guess who's name just got shouted across the garrison when he arrived not ten minutes ago? _Mulverick_. Dear god, I almost died. The Orc who has stood between me and the _Skyshattered_ achievement for _years_ because I'm lame as hell even with the master riding skill, and he's _here_. One of Ku's new followers, freshly busted out of an Ogre slave camp and ready to shit-kick his way to fortune and glory.

It was like being in the presence of a god. I had no idea he was a Frostwolf in any timeline, since Netherwing Ledge is lousy with Dragonmaw assholes. I naturally thought he was one of _them_. I would _love_ to find out if he needs a wingman, or would be interested in a flyby, but as noted before, Frostwolves don't know nothin' 'bout speaking no common. I'm also finding out that the locals aren't too keen on humans. For example, Ku brought in this new follower recently named Gronnstalker Rokash. He's the kind of guy who struts around and laughs a lot in that sarcastically snarky way of someone who's been there, done that, got the t-shirt, drank the blood of the kill, burned down the village, buried the leader in a pit of his own shit... I guess you don't earn the name 'gronnstalker' by being a timid little pansy. Anyway, he looks at me like a) I'm not much better than boot scrapings, and b) there's no damn way in hell what I got is something he wants. Not that I'm angling for a side thing with him, trust me. It's just something I've noticed, that the locals think humans are pretty damn weird-looking, and that's saying something of folks who've grown up staring at Draenei all their lives.

You know, this is getting ridiculous. I managed to pick up Zandali, more or less, in order to survive among the Trolls, now it's time to suck it up and learn Orcish. I have almost no opportunities for practicing my Zandali anyway, unless you count our neighbors over at the fishing shack who're giving me a wide berth for some unexplained reason. Not because I stink, I'll hasten to point out. It may cause a goose-bump explosion of mythic proportions, but I _do_ bathe regularly.

Crap, that probably means I have to spend even more time with Zaggron than he's already willing to put up with. Maybe I can work on Dralthar a little. Break down some of his pissiness and beg a few language lessons. Since I seem to be paying him daily visits already, thank-you-very-much, _Zagg_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm aware that Mulverick also figures in the Alterac Valley battleground, which I have not spent very much time in. Karie is even less PvP-oriented than I am, so she didn't know about his connection to the Frostwolves from way back in Vanilla WoW. Love this guy to death, but yeah, he's also standing between ME and Skyshattered at the moment, the dirty bastard. ;)


	164. Day 103: How to Piss in an Orc's Wheaties, Part 2

Zaggron may be a fantastic botanist, but he's the worst cook the world has ever seen. Now that we've gotten through a few days' worth of feeding a garrison full of people, all of the scraps and offal and discarded bones, hooves, and horns are now _ours._ Lucky us. This morning was one continuous parade of wheelbarrows from the mess hall, the stables, and the barn, where all kinds of innocent creatures have met their bloody demise so we can have steaks. Into this delicious stew, Zaggron dumped buckets and buckets of sulfurous water.

I have to admit, though, it was kind of fun after it got going. We had a kind of disgusting party around the stinky pit - me and Zaggron, the adorable Tauren couple, the Troll boys from next door who normally avoid me like the plague, Dralthar and a handful of stablehands, and the new follower guy, Rala, who seems to have a talent with flowers. The big tough guys - and one Orc woman from the stable - got to chest beat and grunt with these tree-trunk-sized paddles, while I stirred the mess with a more reasonable stick. There was laughter and singing and jokes aplenty, because come on - we were stirring shit. You gotta laugh or you'll cry. I'm sore and in desperate need of a bath, but otherwise doing fine. I almost feel like 'one of the gang.'

While things kind of looked somewhat friendly, I asked Dralthar if he would be a dear and teach me some Orcish. I'm not kidding, he kept darting weird looks at me the whole time I was talking to him, sort of along the lines of 'why are you talking to me,' 'I hope nobody sees this,' and 'go the fuck away.' Kind of pissed me off when he eventually got around to telling me why.

Dralthar: Why don't yer _boyfriend_ teach yuh?

Me: He's a little busy. All this running from one battlefield to another kind of puts a dent in his free time.

Dralthar: [snarky] And yuh think I got loads of it?

Me: No more than I do. Look, if it's too much trouble...

Dralthar: What about yer boss? Don't he wanna help yuh?

Me: [eye roll] He's the opposite of helpful. Why do you think I'm asking you?

Dralthar: No idea. How 'bout them Trolls at the shack?

Me: They don't like to talk to me. Apparently, they didn't get Vol'jin's memo about me being an honorary Darkspear. [lip-curling sarcasm]

Dralthar: [snort - definitely an Orc thing] So... what's it mean, then? Yer gonna be comin' round buggin' me every day?

Me: I'm already coming round and bugging you every day. At least this way, it doesn't involve an exchange of shit.

Dralthar: [chuckle] S'pose. Yeah, I'll... I'll help yuh. Just don't tell Roznik, all right?

Me: [frown] What, did he say something to you?

Dralthar: First day here, yeah. 'Don't touch her, she's mine,' kinda thing.

Me: [eye roll] Oh, for the love of god. Don't worry about him; I'll handle it.

So what, Roznik's marking territory all over the garrison? First Zaggron, which is _ridiculous_ , and now Dralthar? I'll just bet he said something to Mak and Rak next door too, and that's why they won't talk to me. God dammit, I can't have _friends_ now? Yeah, we're going to have a little chat when he gets back from that mess going on up north.


	165. Day 103 Winds Down - Maybe We'll Talk Later

There's a pall over the whole garrison right now. I pretty much have to shelve my tranquilize-the-boyfriend maneuver until later. The big ugly bad guy who's been leading the Thunderlords finally revealed himself, and turned out to be Fenris, yet another mysteriously spawning son of Greatmother Geyah. Yeah, I've been wracking my brains trying to remember where it was mentioned in _Lord of the Clans_ and _Rise of the Horde_ that Durotan had a brother named Ga'nar and coming up with nothing. Without Google or Wowhead, I'm at a loss. Then all of a sudden, another one shows up. So that whole thing with Ga'nar hunting down and retrieving the heads of the Iron Wolf's sons to avenge his father's death, has now turned out to be a sort of... multiple nephew-icide.

And now they're both dead. Fenris got his in his fortress north of here, then Ga'nar took one for the team in Thunder Pass so Drek'thar could bring down the walls on top of the Iron Horde's invasion force. I only saw that hot-headed lug for a minute, but it still feels like a blow to the gut. Like someone as defiantly alive as he was couldn't _possibly_ be gone.

Speaking of Greatmother Geyah, she's now filling a bunk in the special dignitaries housing behind the main hall. I love that woman; I never miss a sit-down with her when I'm messing around in old Nagrand, and always sit with her and Thrall when the game replays their first meeting. I don't even bother going down to see the little hologram of Grom kicking Mannoroth ass. I stay with Geyah and wait for Thrall to come back.

I guess I needed my own fluffy friend for comfort, so I finally summoned Zugzug. She was _so_ glad to see me! She was also glad to see the plethora of defenseless bunnies and rats trying to avoid getting stepped on by the grunts or blown up by the goblins who are _constantly_ hammering at something at all hours of the day and night. So half a dozen brutal slayings later, Zugzug's curled up in my bunk with me and we're both snickering over Zaggron's thunderous snoring. Well, _I'm_ snickering.

Why didn't I hunt down Roznik for the needed comfort? Because I'm in no mood for another arena event. It was cute the first time, his territorial arm-waving and chest-bumping. It's become less and less cute the more he does it, and now he's doing it on the sly so I don't call him on it. Not happy about this shit. It's what goes on in high school, and maybe for awhile in college. _Not_ among the grown-ups, and certainly not when all the males in this garrison have way more important shit to worry about than trying to hitch a ride on my ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Further research has revealed that yes, in the original timeline, Durotan did have two brothers, Fenris and Ga'nar. Fenris did 'disappear' and later turn up as a Thunderlord clan member, and Ga'nar was passed over for chieftain due to his hot-headedness. The only difference in the two timelines is that Garad, the boys' dad, was killed by Ogres originally, not by Fenris. Needless to say, my access to Google and WoW Wiki has granted me a massive advantage over Karie's memory of a book she/I read several years ago. :)


	166. Day 104: Dead Things, Mikey

There's a Forsaken lady in the garrison that Ku picked up at a place called Warspear clear the hell across the continent, and she's weird. I suppose Forsaken equals weird in most people's dictionaries already, but _this_ gal...

I thought I'd chat her up, since we're all neighbors to a certain extent. Her name's Vivianne, and her favorite thing to do is practice her fireball-throwing skills on the same critters Zugzug aims for. She's not tossing them at my wolf, thank goodness. Zugzug's making all kinds of new friends: there's a bunch of wolves roaming around already. You don't call your clan the Frostwolves unless you really mean it. In fact, just this morning the stable guys, including my reluctant language arts professor, had to head out with a troop of soldiers to get us some more of them. The crap with the Thunderlords reduced their numbers significantly. I expect we'll have more than we can handle really soon, so I'll have my work cut out for me when the Zugster goes into heat. Better sit her down for _the talk_.

Anyway, back to Viv. Apart from that completely gross guy at Darkmoon Faire, I haven't been in close proximity to a Forsaken before. I wouldn't really call that a meaningful exchange anyway, on account of the tongue. _Bluuuuuhhh_. Vivianne, at least, is not so completely done in by necrosis. In fact, she looks almost normal, except for the glowing eyes, blue-grey skin, and pokey bony bits around the fingers and elbows. While I would expect a dead person to have a 'healthy' interest in death, I think Viv buries the needle on the 'obsessed' meter. She had _almost_ a sweet, girly expression on her face when she told me that on her last mission, she lit up an Iron Horde sharpshooter like a Winter Veil tree and sent his more easily detachable body parts in twelve different directions.

Ah. Lovely. You have a nice day, now.

Then I chatted with Zaggron for a bit, and he dumped some nasty news on me. Nastier than the already unwelcome news that we'd be setting up the flower boxes and filling them with his scrumptious chow from the pit today.

Me: So what'll we be putting in these boxes besides shit and salad greens?

Zaggron: [smirk] Local plants. What we can get close by.

Me: [startled] Um... at a plant store?

Zaggron: [sour] No, idiot. We're gonna head out with a patrol and pick flowers. Got a problem with that?

Me: [unsure] Are you being sarcastic?

Zaggron: [withering] _No_. Doin' it tomorrow, so yuh better fuck yer boyfriend tonight.

Me: [glower] Why? You want a show?

Zaggron: [maliciously gleeful] 'Cause we'll be headin' into some shit areas. May not be comin' back. Thunderlords're outta the picture, but there's other shit we could run into.

Me: [sarcastic] Which you will happily throw me in front of to save your own ass, huh?

Zaggron: [pissed] [finger in the chest] You listen here. I ain't above throwin' yuh down a ravine if yuh get in my way. But if somethin' nasty's gonna take a bite outta yer ass on _my_ watch, that's _different_. Long as you see the difference where _I'm_ concerned, we got no problems.

Me: [glare] Right. Teamwork.

Zaggron: [nod] Got a couple of lads comin' along who'll keep us outta trouble, but don't you go causin' any, clear?

Me: [innocent] Me? Cause trouble? Honestly, Zaggron. When have I _ever_...

Zaggron: [smirk] Yuh got a reputation, missy. Let's see if yuh live up to it.

And on that cryptic note, he stomped off to the shed and it was business only, no idle chit-chat allowed. Good god, I hope the 'reputation' he's referring to isn't what I think it is. We'll have words if he and his goon squad think they're getting any of _this_.


	167. Later on Day 104: Can't Handle This Shit AT ALL

Apparently, Roznik's prior affliction of stupid man brains has had a relapse. I had to do some legwork after dragging his latest issue out of him, and came to the conclusion that he's operating heavy machinery without a license. Not even a learner's permit.

The gist is that Roz thinks we're married, and he doesn't want anyone thinking I'm available while he's out making me proud of him.

Okay, maybe the terminology is different, but 'married' pretty well covers it. Since I don't recall more than him saying we were a 'thing' to his parents - no vows spoken or our signatures on a piece of paper - I checked with Rala while Roz was fetching us some dinner to go. Turns out, even in times of strife and war, there's still _some_ kind of ceremony. Appropriate sacrificial offering, appeals to the loa for blessings, that sort of thing. You don't just _say_ it, and it's done.

When I called him on it, he threw this in my face: 'Yuh said yuh loved meh.' You could almost _hear_ me rolling my eyes.

Yes, you big doofus, _I love you_. And I consider myself exclusively involved with you. Committed, even. But that doesn't mean I'm ready _or_ willing to take that massive step into 'until death do us part'-land. I look at my days count in this place, and calculate how many of them have been spent with Roznik - to _me_ , it's not nearly long enough to justify that lifelong commitment, especially not with him acting like a childish, self-centered little prick every time I turn my back on him.

And since when is facing death from dawn till dusk required for me to be 'proud' of him? Where is it written that the only way I'll keep loving him is if he somehow manages not to die? Stupid god damn man brains! Grow up a little, dammit, and _then_ I'll be proud of you!

Jesus, it just makes me so mad! I told him to lay off the garrison's testosterone-producing majority, because _not one_ _of them_ is interested in my vagina, but what I didn't slam him in the kiwis with (and maybe I should have) is that this isn't about _them._ It's about _me._ He doesn't trust _me_. It was like a hammer on the thumb when you're trying to nail a board. _He doesn't trust me,_ like he thinks I'm easily distracted by shiny, hot, buff things. One topless woodcutter walks by, and he's lost me.

Honey, let me tell it to you straight. Yeah, I fiddled around with a handful of men when I got here. I admit that. But let's be clear: _I_ did the fiddling. They didn't talk me into _shit_. They didn't coax or slip a mickey or flatter. I went after _them_ because _I wanted to_. So this isn't about how scared shitless he is that someone like Zaggron (holy shit) might make me an offer I can't refuse. He doesn't trust my word, my _honor_ , when I tell him that I don't want anyone else but him. That's what it boils down to.

And to be _really_ clear, his lack of confidence in this area is _not my fault_. I have _never once_ given him a reason to think I'm just looking for an opportunity to skip out on him, or that I've 'settled' for him as a short term 'filler' until something better comes along. _Not once_ have I even _flirted_ with another guy since we reached that understanding of togetherness. And you know something else? I am _not_ curbing my independence so he can feel like a 'man.' Screw you and your advice, Chesuk. I am who I am, I'm pretty damn satisfied with who I am, and I don't owe _anyone_ the loss of my identity. Least of all Roznik. If he can't get his own shit together...

Christ. Now I'm fucking crying. God damn you, Roznik. _God damn you_.


	168. Oh, THAT Reputation - Day 105

I'm worn to a nubbin after spending most of the morning up to my ass in Orcs, pigs, and Ogres. With a token Troll thrown in for flavoring. Apparently, Nali and Tornon aren't into plowing through snow drifts, so they stayed behind where it's semi-warm-ish, sort of. So it was just me, Rala, and Zaggron, along with our Orc bodyguards, Kroxxar and Trukk. I brought Zugzug along in case we came across any critters she hadn't mauled yet.

Roznik got dragged off in the wee hours by a mob led by Ku that was leaving Frostfire Ridge, heading for a mysterious jungle called Gorgrond to make contact with an allegedly 'not entirely dickish' clan we might be able to ally with. I have no idea - the closest thing to 'jungle' I recall from old Draenor is Zangarmarsh, which barely counts. It's more of a swamp. I don't even know which direction they went in.

Doesn't matter. I'm bushed. We went out through the west gate and down the slope. I've never in my life ridden a wolf before, but I have to say, it's way better than a kodo. The first place we hit is kind of situated on the other side of the overhang from our lovely accommodations. Just this wide expanse of snowy field where pigs and some bizarrely-evolved form of clefthoof roam free.

Rala thinks they're awesome. Probably because they've got tusks out to here. It's a Troll thing.

Turns out that the clefthoof were pretty docile. No issues from them. The pigs, on the other hand... To begin with, they're a lot different from what I used to see around this area of old Draenor. It's like this breed of pig pumps iron and enters weightlifting competitions. Not to mention they're white. That last little factoid sent Kroxxar into paroxysms of joy as he hastened to tame one for his very own. I've actually never seen a hunter tame a pet until today; you'd think by now I would have. I must not get out much. It basically looks a lot like how you do it in the game - there's a mind-melding sort of spell involved, several moments of the prospective pet kicking your ass while you channel, then _foom_ , they sort of blink and go, 'oh, _that's_ what you wanted!' and they're all smiles. Sort of. I guess you can't really tell if a pig is smiling. He sure looked over the moon during the manly cuddling, though. Practically rapturous. And the pig seemed happy, too.

So Kroxxar made friends with what his facial expressions indicated was the most adorably, awesomely beautiful pig the world has ever seen, and named it Snowshank. I couldn't help wondering if there would be any redemption for this pig at some later date.

Anyway, back to the flower-picking. The local plantlife is ridiculously hardy, if it's growing in clumps in a snowdrift - frostweed - and in the volcanic ash alongside a lava pool - fireweed. I almost asked Zaggron if all the unbelievably rich fertilizer we produced was really necessary, but I'm sure he'd have some kind of snide remark about it. Regardless, we dug around on that snowy vista until my fingers were numb, then we dug around the lava pools nearby until I nearly died of heatstroke, _then_ we hopped across frickin' ice floes around the wreck of the _Edmund Fitzgerald_ on the coast right below our garrison - Trukk told us it was their 'escape ship' after the battle at the portal - and started scrounging around another wide open snow field.

That's where I discovered the 'reputation' Zaggron alluded to yesterday. Did these guys expect to see Ogres foraging the wreckage and swiping our discarded junk by the pigload? You know they did. That's why Trukk and Kroxxar were with us. Oh, and Rala too, I guess, since he's a Shadow Hunter of massive skill. As soon as the Ogres got a bead on us, we were in the deepest shit imaginable. Zaggron's no slouch in the personal defense department - he's an _Orc,_ for Christ's sake - but if you don't spend all your time in 'battle ready mode,' it's hard to withstand wave upon wave of asshole getting all up in your grill.

It was clear that I, at least, need to spend more time in combat training with Zugzug because she was all over the place. I had no real control over which ass she nailed. Meanwhile, Kroxxar's been buddies with _his_ pet all of five minutes, and they're practically sharing a brain.

So I had to rely on my own dubious skills with a gun to get an Ogre off Zaggron's back while he was surrounded by angry pigs. Trukk's chain lightning could only go so far, Rala was engaged in covering fire against the ones coming down the hill after us, and the Kroxxar/Snowshank team was making Ogre-flavored bacon in our immediate area. I was sort of in the eye of the hurricane, as it were, so I did my best to keep the rest of the team alive.

Man, it was like a dungeon run, except the roles were all wonky. Every once in awhile, Trukk was firing off heals in between lightning, lava blasts, and tanking maneuvers that involved the dirtiest fighting I've ever seen. Not a single Ogre nut was left uncracked. Finally the reality of 'taunt' is revealed. Even Rala shifted from gun to sword now and then. Kroxxar _literally_ charged into the fray several times, ramming those beer-gut Ogres in the jimmies with his head then knifing them while they squealed like little girls. About all I was capable of was basic DPS support, which I accomplished with tears freezing on my face and the sort of gut-tightening that would normally result in a warm stream down the leg if I hadn't thought of that before we left home.

When it was over, Zaggron gave me one of those 'that'll do, Pig' nods of approval, and patted my shoulder. I literally fell on him and held on _so tight_. I totally lost my shit and cried all over him. (I'm blaming the Roz situation for making it easy to send me over the edge right now; nothing to do with the intense fear of death or anything.) He just rubbed my back and told me it was all right, we won, settle down, we're going back now.

Zaggron's letting me recuperate for awhile before tackling the immensely daunting task of selecting our prime candidates out of the blood-splattered weeds we picked. But he told me that _this_ is what he was talking about regarding my 'reputation.' He said you learn a lot about a person - including where their loyalties lie - when you fight by their side. I asked him what he learned from me, and he said, 'You're Horde.' Then he gave me another nod and headed out of our hut so I could have a nap.

Funny how two simple words can make everything just... worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For anyone paying attention, Trukk makes an appearance in "Mad Gamer Chick Fallout: Fentulk's Story." I expect she'll learn about their mutual friend at some point soon. :)
> 
> Also, YAY, this fic just passed 100K words! :D


	169. Calling in Reinforcements on Day 106

My hand is shaking, and I don't know what to do. Roznik and a bunch of other troops came back from the jungle to get some rest so another load could take their place in Gorgrond. I just wanted things to sort of get back to normal, that's all. Maybe even pretend for a moment that everything was fine. I showed him our new weeds, all cozy and warm in their stinky boxes, none the worse for being transplanted into piles of wolf shit. Then I told him about the battle me and the boys got into. I guess I shouldn't have.

Roznik: [grim nod] Dat's what ah t'ought. Bot' uh dem bastuhds tell meh tuh fuck off when I say yuh mine. Gonna have tuh remind'em.

Me: Hey, wait a second. Kroxxar only has eyes for pigs, and Trukk has a girlfriend. What the hell makes you think...?

Roznik: Yuh shouldn't'uh show'em yuh can fight. Dey t'ink yuh just a weak li'l gehl, a _human_ , and dey leave yuh be. Yuh show an Orc yuh got a fightin' spirit, and he look at yuh diff'rent. He look at yuh like... like mebbe yuh might be somethin' he want.

Me: [sour] So I should've just let an Ogre cut Zaggron's throat while I pee-pee-danced and screamed my head off? Is _that_ what should've happened?

Roznik: [angry] Ya, dat should'uh been what happen.

Me: [explosive] That is the most asinine thing you've ever said! Right up there with, 'ooo, I wonder what it's like with a human? Look, it's Karie the Troll-Fucker! I think I'll check her out!'

Roznik: [firm] Yuh listen tuh meh. Yuh _mine_ now. Ah jus' protectin' yuh.

Me: [incredulous] From _what_?

Roznik: [patronizing] Yuhself. Look, ah know yuh like fuckin'. Ah know... mebbe yuh miss fuckin' anybody yuh wan'. All dese men walkin' round... Mus' be hard tuh resist. Ah know. But t'ings are different now. Ah can give yuh what yuh need, anytime yuh want it. Yuh don' have tuh go lookin' foh it.

Me: [mouth agape] [speechless]

Roznik: Mebbe in yuh world, women don' have tuh mind their men, but here dey do. Ah just tryin' tuh keep duh temptation down, so yuh don'...

Me: [burning fury] You think I can't _help_ myself? That our relationship is meaningless to me? Is _that_ what you're saying?

Roznik: [defiant] Yuh prove dat.

Me: At what fucking point did I 'prove' that?

Roznik: [sarcastic] Yuh won' tell meh who yuh fuck befoh me. All ah know is Ugoki say yuh come up to'im on duh docks like yuh waitin' foh duh ship. Like yuh spend every day dere lookin' foh duh next load'uh dick tuh ride. How ah know yuh ain' still lookin'?

Me: [stunned] I can't believe this. _This_ , from a _Troll_. A Troll whose culture is all about getting your jollies at all hours of the day or night. A Troll whose first words to me were, 'you wanna fuck?'

Roznik: Cause I know yuh say 'yes'!

Me: [hateful] [hurt] How incredibly disappointed you must've been. [finger-poke in the chest] You should know I'm not looking because I _told_ you I wasn't.

Roznik: Yuh ain' a Troll. Yuh _human_. Promises ain' duh same foh yuh people as dey are foh mine. [shakes head] Don' mattuh now. Dat time is ovuh. We togedduh now, an' ah won' let yuh fuck nobody else. Dat's why ah tell'em not tuh look foh it from yuh. Cause I know, if ah ain' here tuh give it to yuh, yuh say 'yes.'

I slapped him for that. Really hauled off and nailed him hard. Then I told him to get the fuck out of my face. As soon as I calm down a little more, I'm writing to his mother. I will totally throw his ass under the bus, _watch me_.

My heart hurts. I'm just aching inside. The _déjà vu_ in this scene is enough to turn my stomach. I thought we covered this issue a month ago. Christ, everyone in the Horde and half the Alliance saw us having it out in Razor Hill. Why is it still on his agenda? Worst of all is that he doesn't trust me. Does he even know _how_ to trust? And come to think of it, how do I know I can trust _him_? How do I know he isn't out there in the field fucking everything from other women to very surprised goats?

Because he told me he wasn't. When this got going, we both made it clear that we were an exclusive little club and additional members were not allowed to join. _And I_ _believed him_. Why doesn't he believe _me_?


	170. Bombs Dropping Everywhere, Later on Day 106

I'm going to kill him. I swear to god. What the hell happened? Did passing through the red-goo Portal turn him into an asshole? Roznik didn't let me cool down before he was stomping back into my workplace, throwing even more shit in my face. Now he's got a stick up his ass about Harag.

How do I even begin? He said he knows I fucked Harag on that mission in Pandaria. Maybe as soon as the oath ended, while we were still on the zeppelin heading for Grom'gol. At least he allowed that _maybe_ I stuck to my oath.

I challenged him on it. I reminded him that he read my diary for that entire period. Did he only notice the game world part, and missed entirely the 'I didn't fuck Harag _or_ Zatso' parts? To which he replied, 'Yuh might've left dem parts out so ah don' find out. Why yuh still 'tuned to'im, if yuh didn' do nuttin' wit' him?'

It was a blind-siding I wasn't prepared for. To be honest, I'd pretty much forgotten all about that attunement. I checked right then, just to see if it was still there, reassuring me that Harag was still alive, but it was gone. It must've been obvious that was what I was doing, because he jumped right up my ass about it.

I'm way too upset to quote anything he said. I'm reeling from the stupid man brains attack, coupled with the crushing blow that Harag's dead. He was a friend, sort of. He kind of had my back, somewhat. When did it happen? I don't even know. Does it mean he wasn't able to save his folks? God dammit, _no_ , don't tell me that right on the verge of taking back the Horde, he and his family were Malkorok's last victims. He ran as fast as he could. _Please_ don't tell me he wasn't fast enough because making sure I was safe slowed him down.

And Roznik's pissed that I didn't attune to _him_. Like I had a _choice_ , and I picked Harag over him. Like I want any part of his fucking man brains now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just as an FYI, I established in Mad Gamer Chick Fallout: Fentulk's Story that an attunement spell is nullified by passage through the Dark Portal. So the severing of Karie's connection to Harag isn't necessarily related to his fate. Which I still have to write about. Some day. :(


	171. Can't Sleep - It Might Be Day 107 By Now

Zaggron waited until I stopped crying, then he brought me a bowl of soup from the mess hall. After I stirred it listlessly for awhile, he sat on his bed and I curled up in a fetal position on mine, and he told me Roznik's just a stupid kid.

Me: Duh. Thanks for the news flash.

Zaggron: No, I mean he's a _kid_. I know his folks; he's maybe seventeen at most.

Me: [floored] You're kidding me.

Zaggron: [shakes head] Seen kids like him, off to war for the first time. Usually don't take their mates with'em. Or girlfriends. Messes with'em a bit.

Me: [sour] Yeah. I noticed. [sit up] [serious] I haven't done _anything_ to deserve...

Zaggron: I know yuh haven't. I got ears; heard everything about yuh from all kinds of directions. Good _and_ bad. Ever since yuh came to Orgrimmar.

Me: [embarrassed]

Zaggron: [chuckle] Mostly good. Wasn't sure how to take yuh until this week. Now I know.

Me: [worried] I haven't... disappointed you, have I?

Zaggron: [shakes head] Nah. What I wanna tell yuh, though, is that someone like Roznik's gonna keep tearin' yuh a new one so long as yuh keep lettin' him do it.

Me: But _why now_? He was _fine_...

Zaggron: 'Cause he's _here_. And you're here. He's a stupid kid: he thinks he's gotta watch what's his, every minute, so nobody else gets a hold of it. Maybe what he's sayin' is true; maybe yer the sort of woman who's gotta have a dick inside her all the time. ['whatevs' shrug] Lots of ladies do. I, uh, know some men in this outfit who're similarly inclined. [slightly embarrassed throat clearing] Anyway, what that little snot don't understand is that yuh don't disrespect yer mate or challenge her honor 'less yuh got a damn good reason for it.

Me: Yeah, like with photos and eye witness reports.

Zaggron: [nod] Yeah, like that.

Me: [sad] He thinks he's 'saving me from myself.' He thinks...

Zaggron: [wise and all-knowing] He's makin' shit up so yuh don't find out what his real problem is. I've seen how yuh are, heard what yer like. Yuh want my opinion, he can't handle yuh. He thinks, if he's not doin' some heroic and important shit, he can't impress yuh, and he'll lose yuh to someone else. [snort - Orc thing] Typical.

Me: [stare] You can see that, too? I've had this conversation with him before. I thought we resolved it a long time ago.

Zaggron: I know his kind. Wasn't born yesterday. [snort] Born _here_ , as a matter of fact. Or near enough. [sigh] [distracted] This place ain't... quite right. Not just the Legion missin', but... lots of little things. [shrug] Anyway, yer surrounded by a load of men he don't know and can't control. _You're_ outta his control, and Trolls don't like that in their mate. You bein' human, he thinks if he don't have his hands on the reins, his filly's gonna run off without him.

Me: His 'filly' is rethinking the whole relationship. [wince] But I love him. I don't _want_ this to happen.

Zaggron: It's hard, I know. But you're _Horde_. Yuh gotta do what's right, even if it hurts like a bitch. Sometimes yuh take up with the wrong sort, and yuh gotta try again. Don't mean it's easy. But he's hurtin' yuh. When he's here, yer tense and miserable. He goes on a mission, yuh lighten right up like a weight's been taken off. Probably been this way for a long time, and yuh didn't wanna see it. But shit, if _I_ can see it, and the Commander can see it...

Me: [startled] Wait, Kuadanath knows?

Zaggron: Course she does. Why yuh think she keeps sendin' him out? I heard he's been harassin' folks ever since he found out you were comin'. Started in with the peons, worked his way through the grunts, and nailed every one of us when the support team came in. I've seen him givin' his speech to the followers, too. [chuckle] That Karg fella punched him in the face, then sicced his mate on him.

Me: [weak laugh]

Zaggron: The Commander got an earful every damn day about it. [sincere] I don't doubt he loves yuh, but I _do_ doubt he knows what to do with it. What he's tryin' to keep for himself's gonna run as far away from him as she can get, if he don't get his ass in line. Gotta say, I don't think he's got what it takes to do it.

I'd rather know more about Zaggron - like which guy in the garrison he's fooling around with - but I'm going to focus on what he's told me, and what I already scribbled on a parchment and shipped off to Jozala after round 2 this evening. I asked her what to do. I gave her the run-down on all that Roznik said and his accusations and all that, and just asked, _what do I do about this_? He's your son, dammit - throw me a bone.

But I think tops on the WTF Chart is that Roznik is only seventeen. How in the hell did I get this far with him, without knowing _that_? Okay, _yes_ , age doesn't necessarily mean anything. He could be a really immature thirty, too. I've seen _that_ enough times in my world to skip the birthday check on my prospective suitors. Comparatively speaking, Daznik is _totally_ different. Sure, he was milking the attention, but there's just something... different about him. He's more confident, it seems. He has wiser eyes. Maybe a druid thing?

I don't know. I feel a little uncomfortable about Roz's age. It's kind of gross, in fact. Like, he could still be in high school, and I could get arrested. I've got a friend back home whose son is eighteen, and she's only a few years older than me. I changed his god damn _diapers_ every now and then, for Christ's sake. So placing Roznik in the same basic age range as her son is sort of... ew.

Anyway, I need to talk to Kuadanath. As soon as she comes back to visit, I've got to ask about the assignments and missions. Is she sparing her garrison staff from being annoyed every day, or trying to save me?


	172. Cuteness Overload, Day 107

The only thing that could've lifted my spirits after last night's talk, yesterday's multiple rounds of bullshit, and a crying jag the likes of which the world has never seen, was Grogax sheepishly asking me to read Jinqies's long-awaited response to him because he was 'too nervous' to read it himself.

Christ, this guy's cute when he blushes. No wonder Jinqies adores him.

Again, not broadcasting their private mail in my diary, but the gist is that all is forgiven. There was plenty of girlfriend advice - don't take unnecessary risks, never go on patrol alone, focus on what you're doing so you don't make mistakes, eat your veggies - which was clearly masking the strong underlying command, _don't you dare die out there_. He was so relieved, he said, that he didn't think he could manage to write back in a way she'd be able to read - hands shaking and all - so could I help him out again?

Sure, big guy. I'd be glad to.


	173. History Lessons on Day 108

I'm not a total n00b. I've run the instance where you save Thrall from Durnholde several times. I knew there were internment camps during the multiple wars between the Horde and the Alliance, but this is the first time I've talked about it with any of the Orcs who actually grew up in one.

It started out as a normal language lesson with Dralthar. I don't know how the subject even came up, but I found myself losing my shit over Roznik's asshole behavior again. Probably because Dralthar got the speech on day one, plus I caught him checking to make sure Roz wasn't around to see us together. I didn't want to waste my precious bodily fluids over it _again_ , but I couldn't help it. We're not sneaking around behind his back, dammit! And you don't have to act like we're doing something naughty, Dralthar!

But I digress. My babbling mouth unloaded a lot more than just the most recent events; I told him about my origins. The 'other world' part only; I didn't think he needed to hear the 'game' part. It's just too difficult to explain. What really upset me is that, if I lose Roznik, I lose his family too. Another one. I don't know if I can take that. Dralthar said he knows how that feels.

In a nutshell, he's an orphan. He doesn't know exactly when or where he was born, except that he's pretty sure it was on Azeroth around the time of the first war. He suspects he was one of those 'oops' outcomes of a co-ed military unit where 'we may die today, so how 'bout it, baby' sort of encounters sometimes happen, then got shuffled along with the baggage from battlefront to battlefront until the war ended. He was probably taken in by someone during the couple years' lull until the second one started up. He has very vague memories of being cold, hungry, and alone all the time, but that's about it. His real memory seems to kick in about the time that he found himself in an internment camp with a bunch of other defeated soldiers and their families.

It was hellish, he said. He learned much later that being assigned guard duty at an internment camp was viewed as a punishment, so most of the guards were assholes looking for a target. He confessed that he grew up hating an Alliance uniform, because it seemed like whoever wore one delivered a hefty amount of abuse on the Orcs under their charge, even little kids like him. He didn't go into massive detail, but he mumbled that he saw kids shoved and smacked around - himself included - men getting clubbed to death for stupid reasons, and women getting raped. Then he shut his mouth on that subject.

But he didn't hate the _civilian_ Alliance folks. There were a few in the camp who snuck some extra food and the occasional blanket to the Orcs on the sly when the jerkweed guards weren't looking. There was one family in particular that looked after Dralthar, because it was pretty well known that he was on his own. The mom was a cook, dad was a stablehand, and they had a little girl about his age.

He smiled kind of sadly when he remembered that girl. He said he was allowed to play with her when they were little, where no guards would see them. Then he said that when they got older, he sort of had a 'thing' for her, and she felt the same. For a moment, he was far away, with a little smile on his face, and said that she was the first girl he ever kissed. Then his smile disappeared.

It was hard to hear, he spoke so quietly, but he was something like sixteen when Thrall, Orgrim Doomhammer, and Grom Hellscream's Orc Liberation Front reached his camp. He took up arms with everyone else who had any spirit left, because of the things he'd seen, the things he'd endured. The battle was ferocious and bloody, and there were many casualties on both sides, including some collateral damage that took his 'adopted' family.

Dralthar couldn't talk about it anymore, but I could tell that loss still hurts him deeply. I held his hand and we just sat there for a long time saying nothing. His story kind of put a lot of things in perspective for me. I don't know why, but now I feel sort of... different. About Roznik, his family, my place in the Horde, my _friends_ in the Horde, _the Horde,_ and... lots of stuff.

I'm glad he told me. I'm glad he felt like he could trust me with something like this, because it hurts, and he almost lost his cool. In front of _me_. So I guess he doesn't hate me as much as I thought. I need friends here, especially since Roznik seems bent on keeping me from having any.


	174. An Unexpected Ally Joins the Fray on Day 109

I got a letter just now, not from Jozala, but from Daznik. I was afraid to open it. I almost asked Grogax to do it, knowing he'd probably make something up so I wouldn't find out he can't read. But that would be mean and childish. So I read it myself. It's like a calm has settled over me, and I can breathe again.

_Karie,_

_I hope you don't mind me answering instead of my mata, but I didn't think she'd tell you what needed to be said. She'd defend Roznik to her last breath, and maybe I would too, if he deserved it. From what you wrote, and what he said to me in Moonglade, I don't think he deserves it._

_He told me he loves you, but he can't hold you. He's afraid of losing you to another man. The only way he can think of to keep you with him, is to make you think you're nothing without him. I told him that was bullshit; anybody with eyes can see you love him too. He doesn't need to hurt you to keep you. He doesn't believe in himself, or you, enough to believe me._

_You're a strong woman, an honorable woman, and you shouldn't suffer for his pride. I'll tell mata that if you decide you can't put up with Roznik's shit anymore, she's not to give you any of her own. You've had enough already, I think._

_I'll be writing to him too. Let me know if he gives you grief for turning to the family for help, and I'll take care of it._

_You asked about Drizzul's woman. I took him into the Emerald Dream to see if we could find her and help her. She's there, safe and well-protected. Her name is Daphnessa. It'll be a long time before we can draw her out of the Dream, and bring her home. He chose to stay there with her. Mata's right; that boy's lost. I suppose I am too._

_I never thanked you for setting things right for Suliya. You avenged her in more ways than you can imagine. You have my support no matter what, because I know who you are. I just wish Roznik could see you as well as I do._

_Your brother, Daznik_

I think I've read his letter a hundred times already, and cried a hundred buckets' worth of tears. See what I mean? Daznik's _way_ different from his doofus brother. I'm feeling massive relief for so many reasons: Drizzul accompanying Daphnessa on the road to recovery, the implication that Daznik and Minara are hooking up, knowing that Daznik is still my adopted brother...

Damn, a horn just blew. I'm pretty sure it's the 'Commander's coming' heads up, not the 'battlestations' call. I've got to have a chat with Ku.


	175. Reprising the Arena Event, Later on Day 109

It's completely appropriate that the garrison has this depression in the middle, kind of like the main floor of an arena with plenty of room for seating all around. I went out to see if Kuadanath had come back, and yes she had, but guess who got _his_ letter the same time I got mine?

He didn't exactly shake a wadded up piece of paper in my face, but I figured it out. Roznik was _furious_. I tried to get him to calm down and talk it out. Preferably somewhere private. I just wanted to make him understand that I asked for help for _both of us_. Because I'm not ready to hang it up and call it quits.

That is, I wasn't ready until he slapped me and called me 'traitorous whore' in front of the whole garrison. When a great big Troll slaps you, I'm afraid you go straight down.

I could _not_ get up. Maybe I _gave_ up. I just lay there in a sobbing heap, staring up at the sky and listening to him yell at me, telling me I wouldn't be in the Horde if it weren't for him. I wouldn't even be a Darkspear. Ranting about how he's out there risking his life every day, while I'm back here betraying him. Announcing to the entire world that I must be fucking his brother since we're so god damn chummy all of a sudden.

He didn't get to share any more of his opinions before Kuadanath punched him in the face and put _him_ down for the count. Trolls may be big, but Tauren are bigger.

I couldn't see a thing, I was crying so hard. I just knew I was being held by someone green who smelled like hay. That green someone carried me all the way back to my hut and put me to bed. I heard him telling Zaggron what happened. Zaggron responded with a string of Orcish that was probably swear words, and they both left for a while. Then my green someone came back and put a cold, wet cloth over my eyes and rubbed my back.

When I reached for him, he held my hand. Because Dralthar's my friend, and _he_ believes me.


	176. Wrung Out Like a Dishrag, Nightfall of Day 109

I'm numb from something other than cold for once. I expect the waterworks will pick up again soon, but for now, I've run out. Dralthar stayed with me for at least an hour, if not longer, before he finally muttered something about having to 'take care of some shit,' and left. Grogax came by and asked if I needed anything; I said no. One of the first Frostwolf followers Ku recruited, a woman named Ka'la, also dropped by. I haven't spoken to her once, because I still don't know Orcish very well, but apparently the Sisterhood overcomes language barriers. She put her arm around me and just sat humming a soothing song really quietly. And listening to me cry some more.

I heard Roznik's voice at one point. He was begging Zaggron to let him see me. He said he wanted to apologize; he didn't know what came over him. _Please_. From the sound of it, Zaggron punched his lights out, then told Rala to 'take out the trash.' Man, these walls are thin.

Then Ku came over and talked to me. She's been trying to operate discretely, assuming that I'm 'too close to the situation' and might not appreciate her thoughts on the matter. She said she started seeing some 'danger signs' way back in Razor Hill, and has kept an eye on things ever since. Kept an ear open, too. She wasn't sure if her gut feeling was true until she told me I could come to the garrison, and Roznik started in on the men. They complained - most of them only knew me as an Alliance defector, or they'd heard about my asinine oath, or that I worked for Garrosh briefly. More important than that was that I'm human, and to most Orcs in the Horde, that raises their gorge. So being told _not_ to fiddle around with a human produces one of those _gross, like I'd want to_ kind of reactions. Plus, _duh_ , they were going to war. Trying to save their home world. Looking for a little redemption for past sins. They had a few more important irons in the fire.

Anyway, Ku shipped Roz's ass out to Gorgrond. He's in a place called Beastwatch surrounded by our new buddies, the Laughing Skulls, which I found to be kind of ironically appropriate. She understands that I still love him, and that feeling isn't going to just disappear. She thought some distance, a little bit of chill time, might benefit us both. Maybe some day we can try again. Just not today.

Zaggron told me that when he and Dralthar headed over to the main garrison to give Roznik a piece of his mind, he couldn't get a word in edgewise because Dralthar started pounding the shit out of Roznik. Is it bad that I feel kind of smug about that?


	177. New Folks in the Garrison on Day 110

Normally, I'm not easily distracted from my personal misery once the self-pity party gets going, but this just threw me for a loop. Now there's an Ogre in the garrison. And a strange little tree-person. And an even stranger Goblin woman.

The Ogre's name is Tormmok, but if he doesn't like you, it's _High Centurion Tormmok_ to you, missy. And go figure, he doesn't like me. Ku, he likes, because she apparently kicked a lot of ass by his side out in the jungle. He's only here instead of back in the Ogre-hood surrounded by his peeps because he pissed them off. This does not surprise me.

As for the tree-person, he - or she, it's impossible to tell - has decided to make his home in the garden with us, so I have to watch where I step or I'll run over him. He's about Goblin-sized, coming up to my waist. According to Zaggron, who's over the moon about the latest addition because he's a _plant_ , this little guy could be a baby Ancient. Sort of the toddler version of those big tree folks you see around Azeroth. Zaggron named him Sappy because the poor thing isn't potty trained, and leaves a trail of it wherever he goes.

Speaking of Goblins, her name is Penny Clobberbottom. I had to apologize profusely for laughing at her name, but holy shit, did I need that. Penny _Clobberbottom_. After what I've had to put up with the last couple of days, I really needed a Clobberbottom in my life. I gave her the biggest hug because I really couldn't get a word out. Thank god, she's heard it all and just rolled with it.

I needed to laugh. It felt good to just fall over laughing at something really silly. I almost feel like things will get back to normal, maybe even get better eventually, and I don't need to hide in the herb garden anymore, because Zaggron needs more buckets of shit, and I need more language lessons. The world is still turning on its axle. I'm still Karie, and _nobody_ can take that away from me.


	178. Day 111 Involves Ugly Distractions

I went looking for something to keep my mind off of Roznik's shit. The vote's still out on whether it was a good idea or not. Since I've been hanging out more with Dralthar, and looking at him in a whole different light, I started asking around the Orcs I have some kind of rapport with. Find out how many of them have 'internment camp' in their histories.

Short answer: Most of them.

More refined answer: Everyone older than ten who wasn't an exiled Frostwolf or a member of the small rebel groups under Orgrim and Grom.

Zaggron took part in the first war, and was incarcerated about halfway through the second one. As an adult who'd drunk the demon blood, he vividly remembers the lethargy and 'no fucks left to give' withdrawal experience. Maybe he wasn't personally abused by the camp guards, but that was only because he'd given up entirely. Trust me, he wasn't proud of this. I'm sure if we hadn't reached a certain level of mutual respect, he would've told me to fuck off rather than relive that time.

Both Kroxxar and Trukk were pre-teens when the first war landed whole clans in the camps. Kroxxar didn't even want to talk about it. Trukk said if he hadn't followed in Thrall's footsteps after the liberation and embraced shamanism, he would've slaughtered every human he saw, he was so full of anger and hate.

Then he said something that made me damn near crap: he's seeing Orcs getting 'friendly' with humans here and there, and it doesn't upset him like it might have years ago. One woman in particular he ran across managed to win the heart of a Mag'har, in fact. I must've looked like he slapped me, because he asked if I was all right.

Me: Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. This Mag'har... his name wouldn't happen to be Fentulk, would it?

Trukk: [surprised] Yeah, that's him. You know'im?

Me: [enthusiastic gushing] Oh my god! Is he okay? Did they get married? Did they make it to Garadar?

Trukk: [laugh] Slow down! Yeah, he's fine. They come through Thrallmar on the way to Nagrand a month or so back. Sent'em on their way with some supplies. Had to deliver somethin' to Garadar a few weeks later, and he said she's his mate now. Looked real happy. He's buildin' a hut for'em and all. [grin] Says they're workin' on a family.

Me: [relief] Thank god. Really. _Thank fucking god_. He didn't deserve the SI:7 treatment; he was a really nice guy.

Trukk: [frown] SI:7? Whatcha mean?

Me: It's complicated. He was captured and tortured. I don't know all the details, just that even nice guys can get saddled with shitbag friends. [sour]

Trukk: [chuckle] Ain't that the truth.

I interviewed a few others. One of the grunts, a woman named Chodi, was polite until I asked about it, then she glared at me. She looked like, if I didn't get the fuck out of her face _right now_ , that big axe she was carrying would find its way up my ass. A guy came right out and said he's 'a stinking half-breed'; what does _that_ tell me? (For the record, I guess he looked a little softer regarding the Orc features, but still green.)

That was pretty much the story all over. Only one woman allowed that _maybe_ the Alliance felt justified. Orcs poured through the Portal out of nowhere and proceeded to burn and pillage everything in sight. They were probably scary-as-fuck-looking, and for the longest time the people of Azeroth didn't know where they came from or why they were there. _Maybe_ containing the post-battle prisoners was more humane than killing them outright. _Possibly_ rounding up their families afterward could've been to prevent future 'difficulties.' None of that excused what they did when they had an assload of weakened, helpless Orcs at their mercy. 'Where was their precious Light _then_?' she asked, and I agreed with her.

It occurred to me while I contemplated the past, that it's no damn wonder the Horde is so family-oriented and tightly coupled with its allies. And most certainly why a betrayal like Garrosh's cut so deeply. Garrosh's _dad_ busted his nuts to save the Horde, and he was the first one at the bar when the bloody kool-aid was being distributed. Grom Hellscream didn't set out to release the Orcs from the blood curse; his goal was to get his people out of a situation that stunk of ethnic cleansing. He preserved something the Alliance seemed determined to destroy - maybe out of self-defense in the beginning, but I'd say it got way out of hand.

I realized that when Zaggron called me 'Horde,' he wasn't just accepting me as an ally. He was embracing me as _family_. I proved, clumsily as always, that I'm willing to do what hurts, what's uncomfortable, what _sucks_ to me, to save a friend. Like you would do for family.

Garrosh never knew a family. He was too young when his dad went through the Portal and disappeared from his life. He never went through that crucible of pain and anguish that tied the Orcs together. I think that made it easy to use them like pawns for his own ends. Even easier to destroy them when things didn't go his way. And he's doing it again - using his own _father_ \- for _what_ , revenge? Must be. Otherwise, he could just have quietly knocked heads in this version of Draenor without anyone on Azeroth knowing about it. Set up his own little empire with all the 'future knowledge' he had at his disposal. But no, he had to bring his shit _here_. Okay, not _here_ here, but to Azeroth. Why? Why the fuck did he feel the need to shake his bare ass in everyone's face? No idea. I hope we find out before the authorities gun him down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Another shout-out to my side story, Mad Gamer Chick Fallout: Fentulk's Story.


	179. Still a Darkspear, Evening on Day 111

I finally stopped crying like a baby because it's been over an hour since they left; any longer and I would be edging too close to 'pathetic.' Mak and Rak from next door came over and _hugged me_. They said they didn't want to get Roznik bent out of shape after he gave them the spiel about me, but now that he's 'out of the picture,' they figured it was safe to talk.

I asked if this crap with Roznik means I'm no longer a card-carrying member of the faction, and Mak'jin laughed. He told me that he's been following the rumors and breaking news stories about me since I showed up. From his perspective, if Vol'jin says I'm Darkspear, _I'm Darkspear_ as far as he's concerned. Nothing Roznik says or does will change that. It's up to Vol'jin to make that call, and he's pretty damn sure breaking up with my Darkspear boyfriend isn't enough to make the new Warchief kick me out of the house.

I clarified that I don't think of myself as 'broken up' with Roznik. We're sort of going through a rough time that I'm sure... sort of sure we can resolve when things cool down. Although that startling age gap thing... Anyway, Rak'jin let loose a good, old fashioned Orc-like snort and told me that's bullshit.

Rak'jin: It's time tuh let'im go, mon. He ain' a good match fuh you.

Me: [defensive] [slightly pouty] But I _love_ him.

Rak'jin: [sigh] He ain' good foh yuh, trus' meh.

Mak'jin: Mon who call yuh 'whore' in public and hit yuh... he ain' fuh you. Dere be plenty'uh men who treat yuh bettuh. [eyebrow waggle] [cheesy grin]

Me: [smirk] Right.

It's good to know that, in spite of suspected sexism among the Trolls, where women are kind of 'second class' next to the men, abuse is still abuse, and it's not tolerated. Still, I think I've had enough of the male opinion in Troll society. There's a woman here who seems friendly enough. I think I'll ask for her thoughts on the whole situation.

Though I'd like to point out that I'm not asking so I can justify myself, and I'm not looking for more reassurance that Roznik made a hugely bad call in our relationship. _I know he did_. And I also know that when I decide that I've moped, cried, and felt sorry for myself enough, I'll dust myself off and get back on track. Because I'm _Horde_ , dammit, and you gotta hit us really hard and often to bring us down.


	180. Bumbling in the Jungle on Day 112

It's been a really uncomfortable day, for several reasons. To begin with, Zaggron, Rala, and I took flights out to Beastwatch to collect some more plants for the garden. I got lucky when we arrived: Roznik was out on a mission to pare down the local population of something called 'botani'. I felt automatic sympathy, having done countless 'thin their ranks' quests in the game myself. I wouldn't be surprised if he was collecting some kind of thing off them, and only one in five dropped it. A drop rate that decreases the closer you get to the quota, by the way.

I met my first Laughing Skull members there. Chucklespine the flight master (totally not making that up), a lady named Marrow, and a guy named Limbflayer carrying a huge axe that looks suspiciously like a safety razor blade on a stick. Another guy handling the vittles is named Ribchewer. But don't let the cute names fool you. These guys put Troll headhunting fetishes to shame. They're literally wearing the skull of their favorite victim as a mask. All the time. They've even covered them with war paint because glitter and pony stickers aren't available here. Yeah, I think they'd totally do that, given half a chance.

Zaggron collared a guy named Ripfist to guide us in so we could scrounge up some Gorgrond flytraps. It's hard to tell through the mask, but I think the guy stared at us for a good minute in disbelief. I could see his point - why waste our time digging up flowers when we could be skinning folks alive and taking their skulls as decorative headgear? What a load of dumbasses.

So the jungle is ridiculously humid and hot compared to the snowy reaches of Frostfire Ridge. We were wearing several layers on the flight over, and damn near stripped to our underwear when we landed. The Laughing Skulls are barely dressed themselves, standing just this side of decent in loin cloths and vests. Oh, and the skull masks. Not to mention all the bone-related paraphernalia hanging off their belts and woven into their hair.

In addition to the new Orc crew - whom I remember to be ridiculously aggressive, red-skinned, and covered in back spikes in old Draenor, so light brown and almost happy to see me is a welcome change - we ran across some of those botani and their... fascinating science experiments. Which we had to mercifully put down.

The first one we saw was once an Orc, by the shape and some of the features peeking out through the moss, fungus, and vines growing from his body. Apart from that, there was no way to know exactly who he was, even if his own mother looked at him. He attacked on sight, bellowing and roaring. The boys did their part and took him down pretty fast, even though he fought like the devil. But he didn't die immediately. When he was down and close to death, I had to look at him. He was leaking something like chlorophyll, not blood. Zaggron wouldn't let me get close, and even Ripfist advised distance (I assume - don't know much Orcish, but I can figure out a stiff-armed whack to the chest when I get one). But I was close enough to see the Orc-thing's eyes blinking really fast as he stared at nothing. And I saw the light go out. There's no other way to describe it.

For some reason I've yet to figure out, I fell apart. I literally threw myself on that dead plant-ified Orc and cried all over him. Zaggron and Rala had to pry me off. I _really_ lost it when Ripfist set the corpse on fire, presumably to keep whatever infested the guy from spreading or being used on someone else.

He wasn't the last one we encountered, by any stretch. Then to put a capper on the day, we came back to Beastwatch and Roznik was there. With Rala and Zaggron flanking me, I faced him. He wanted to talk to me alone; the boys wouldn't let him. He apologized for what he did; I told him it wasn't good enough this time. I also told him I got a letter from Daznik at the same time, and he's lucky I didn't write back to tell his brother about the incident. Not yet, anyway.

He asked if it was over between us, and I didn't know what to say. I still don't, and it's been hours, and I'm back in Frostwall wrapped in several blankets with a warm wolf cozying up to me. I guess I'm not really ready to know just yet.


	181. It's Been 113 Days, and I Just Figured Out That Orcs are Strange Creatures

After spending however many weeks in largely Trollish company, I'm finding that close proximity and consistent exposure to Orcs reveals a lot of interesting, sometimes strange, behavior.

Take the new follower who just showed up in the garrison, one Kaz the Shrieker. In spite of being weirded out to the max by our resident Forsaken, she took to Vivianne relatively quickly once she discovered they're both chronic pyromaniacs. As proven by the training pitch once more going up in flames this afternoon, causing a mad peon scramble that _I swear_ was the real reason for the fireworks.

 _Mister_ Gronnstalker Rokash reminds me of that doofus from the opening quest going into Hillsbrad, post-Cataclysm. Something Pink Floydish, like _Welcome to the Machine_. Where you hand out quests to dudes representing three over-the-top exaggerations of the worst player types ever. One is an Orc who, according to the Forsaken guy who hands over the quest giver reins, spends all his time in low-level areas throwing his weight around.

Not saying that Mister Rokash does that particular thing, but he most certainly refers to himself in the third person, and struts around looking like the BMOC who's only here for the day, then he'll be heading back to where the _real_ action is. So enjoy basking in his lauded presence while you can.

I probably don't need to review Dralthar's odd behavior, but let's do that, shall we? First meeting, he's a grumpy asshole. Pretty much lumped me into the same category as the bitch who used him, and warned Roznik off me in pretty strong terms. Not a couple weeks later, he's an ally and friend patiently (more or less) teaching me Orcish, beating up my boyfriend on an as-needed basis, and pouring out his life history to me. I'm totally going to ask him about this mood-change next chance I get. Today is another 'gather up the frostwolf pups' day, so he's out of the office for awhile. But when he comes back...

There's also another tree in the compound. This one doesn't _quite_ look like an old familiar ancient, but I think I've seen something like him in Felwood or someplace. His name is Birchus and when he stomps around, the ground shakes. Very unsettling. He's sort of 'adopted' Sappy and comes to the garden frequently, so I'm getting vibrated out of my hammock pretty regularly. Regardless of how it sounds, it's not a good kind of vibration, trust me.

But back to the Orcs. I wouldn't exactly say that Greatmother Geyah is 'strange,' just that she has that kind of 'all-knowing' look about her. Kind of reminds me of that weird, eyes-in-the-back-of-his-head Mok'thardin from Grom'gol, except in a non-threatening, unlikely-to-shoot-lasers-out-her-eyes kind of way. According to Zaggron, she's a very skilled healer and shaman. We see her in the garden a lot, poking around the weeds - and our budding flytraps - clipping little bits here and there. Zaggron says she's probably using them for healing potions. Probably. She's also fishing in the stretch of pond behind our cabins, because _evidently_ Draenor alchemy depends on fish, fish, and more fish. This is according to Mak and Rak, who also see a lot of Mulverick on their lawn. He's apparently quite a whiz with potion-making himself.

I suppose when your neighbors are plant people, you kind of shy away from using their cousins in your cooking. Now if only the botani would show the same sort of respect.


	182. Day 114: Who Let the Elves Out?

I got up this morning and headed over to the stables for my daily bucket of shit, and noticed an Elf standing around the central bonfire down in the depression, chatting with Kuadanath. Color me surprised.

You know I had to check this out. We don't get 'other faction' reps nosing around very often, unless you count that weird dumbass human guy wearing an Orc mask who wanders about unchallenged. If he thinks a Hallow's End mask has Clark Kent powers of disguise, he's frickin' nuts. _Everyone_ knows he's human, they're just too amused by his silliness to kick his ass out.

Anyway, her name's Cordana Felsong, and she's a bodyguard for Khadgar. She had one of those full-facial helmets going on, so I couldn't _see_ the stink-eye she was giving me, but I could _feel it_.

Cordana: [snooty] You must be Karie. The defector.

Me: Defection is in the eye of the beholder. I prefer 'Karie the Loyalist.'

Cordana: [disapproving] Interesting choice of words.

Me: [cool] Just telling it like it is.

Kuadanath: [gently warning] Karie is a member of the Horde, Ms. Felsong, and a personal friend of the Warchief's.

Cordana: [conciliatory bow] [totally insincere] I meant no offense.

Me: [not fooled at all] None taken. So you keep Khadgar out of trouble? Must be a full time job, huh?

Cordana: Indeed. [dismissing me entirely] [to Kuadanath] He has a lead on the whereabouts of Gul'dan, but we will need to establish relations with a northern tribe of Frostwolves. Commander, your assistance in this matter is vital.

Kuadanath: It would be my pleasure, Ms. Felsong.

So... _biiiiitch_. I understand that I won't win any popularity contests in the Alliance, but holy crap, show a little polite respect when you're in a frickin' Horde base, will you?

Anyway, before Kuadanath got herself and a troop of grunts outfitted for the trip, I asked her about that other Elf she knew from Pandaria, just because this snotty one reminded me of her. Not that Sharis was snotty; she's just an Elf. Ku said that Sharis is the commander of the Alliance garrison out in Shadowmoon Valley, and they keep in touch. Discretely, so the Warchief and the King don't get suspicious of treachery. But she said that _her_ chieftain is Baine Bloodhoof, and he comes before the Warchief in terms of her 'way of handling things.' Baine counsels a more peaceful approach to the Alliance, so she has maintained a cordial relationship with Sharis.

Gotta say, I'm glad of that. The less we beat each other's asses up while trying to save the world together, the better.


	183. The Resurrection Mystery Revealed on Day 115

It's times like these that put your own petty boyfriend issues into perspective, you know? Kuadanath got back from her mission with Khadgar and Her Bitchiness in a really subdued mood. More subdued than usual, anyway. I gave her some 'getting back to business' time, then found her in the main hall pretending to examine the map on the command table.

Since we were alone, I asked if there was anything I could do. She just had that look, like something really bad went down. Something did: Kuadanath was killed.

I've always wondered about this, from a 'real Azeroth' perspective, and now I can say with confidence that the resurrect option is available, but it sometimes sucks worse than dying.

Ku said she'd gotten ahead of the troops who accompanied her for the Gul'dan showdown. They were still battling asshole Shadow Council fuckers up top. But speed was of the essence; they couldn't let that pile of crap get away. She faced him herself, and though the wimp-ass refused to dirty his own hands, he quickie-converted one of his minions into a demon bitch that put up a hell of a fight. One lucky shot later, and Ku's taking the long road toward the light.

She saw Brahm there. He held out his hand and she took it. She remembers feeling a deep inner peace, a feeling of 'at last,' then the priest must've reached her. There was a pull on her spirit that she wanted to deny, but it was too strong. Brahm smiled and nodded, then let go of her. She woke up in that cave where she'd fought Gul'dan's lackey, surrounded by her relieved troops.

I didn't want to press her any further because the look of a woman on the verge of a crying jag she'd rather do in private was all over her face. But I hugged her, and told her that, if it makes her feel any better, we still need her here. And I'm sure Brahm will wait for her return, when the time is right.


	184. A Woman's Perspective, Later on Day 115

Ku's near-death experience put me in a pretty thoughtful mood, so I gathered up the courage to talk to Yu'rina, our resident... Christ, I don't know what she does. Near as I can tell, she sorts the incoming and outgoing goods down by the salvage yard. Or something. No idea. Anyway, she's a woman _and_ a Troll, so I chatted her up. Naturally, I didn't need to tell her who I was; anyone with a nodding acquaintance with the Horde knows who I am. [/sarcasm]

So I asked her about the whole... dude thing. Why Roznik would be such a possessive, territorial doofus. Is it a Troll guy thing? What's up with the attitude? She kind of smirked and laid it out for me.

In a nutshell, Troll men are assholes. She used a different word, but I never learned how to spell anything in Zandali. 'Asshole' covers it pretty well, though. Traditionally, the men are dominant and the women are rather subservient. That's how it's been for thousands of years, and the women never knew any different life. However, the last 20-25 years of exposure to Orcs and Tauren has revealed a different option for male/female relationships, which Troll women found pretty attractive. So they've been working at it for a long while, paring down those restrictions and expanding their reach, to establish a more equitable position in their culture.

Criminy, does _that_ sound familiar.

Just like in my world, there are forward-thinking supporters as well as 'omg the women are cutting our balls off' alarmists among the testosterone-producing half of society. Yu'rina is among those who prefers the less threatening, passive approach to equality: show she's capable and skilled in her work, able to leap tall buildings all by her fragile, girlie self, and think her way out of any situation. She also prefers to do her thing without a man hanging off her. To which I said, _good for you_.

Regarding the Roznik thing in particular, she got this grim look on her face and said he deserved the pounding 'that Orc from the stables' gave him. She was there at Razor Hill when he lost his shit the last time (encouraging my paranoid worry that _everyone_ on Azeroth witnessed that event), and thought it was kind of stupid of me to stick with him afterwards. 'A mon who give 'is woman grief ovuh somet'in' like dat... He on'y gonna get worse. An' he got worse.'

Yeah. I guess he did. Anyway, her advice to me was to stay away from him for awhile. Let things cool down. Listen to my heart, but also pay attention to my head. 'Yuh heart gonna tell yuh dat yuh love'im an' can' live wit'out'im. Duh heart don' know wha's good foh yuh all'uh time. But yuh head gonna remembuh what he done. Yuh head gonna say, _dat mon won' be changin' 'less he wanna change_. Yuh head gonna say, _Ah deserve bettuh_.'

Wise woman, that Yu'rina.


	185. Confused on Day 116

The pup-retrieval mission went a little longer than expected, so I gave Dralthar a bit of breathing room to get settled back in before pestering him about our lessons. But when I talked to him a little bit ago, he was kind of... distant. He looks like he saw something disturbing. By comparison, his crew seems pretty normal.

One of them did say, under nosey-ass questioning, that the crew found a dead Orc frozen in the snow and gave him a proper burial, then Dralthar went out on his own during the night, but he was back by morning with a wolf pup, so nobody thought a thing more about it.

All Dralthar would say to me was that he has 'some thinking to do.' Then he went back to work. I don't have any idea what the hell happened, but it's got me worried.


	186. The Herb Garden is a Popular Hang-Out

I don't think it has anything to do with the extremely well-insulated, multi-layered Alliance defector shivering her tits off over a flower box full of weeds, but the herb garden has recently become damned interesting to several folks in the garrison. I blame the trading post Ku just installed.

Our first traveling salesman is a Goblin. Go figure. Like any Goblin, his prices are ridiculous. So folks are coming over here for plant parts to trade, rather than buying any of his shit. Zaggron's busting out the flower-box-construction materials, now that there appears to be a rise in demand, so it's going to be a long, dull evening of hammering and swearing. Plus, we just got news that Ku has another outpost set up in a place called Talador. You know what that means: pretty soon, we're going to be heading out there to collect another strain of flowers, just you wait.

In other exciting garrison news, I'm no longer the sole defector on the premises. One Morketh Bladehowl, who used to forge weapons for the Iron Horde, has managed to ingratiate himself to Kuadanath enough to be counted among her ranks of followers. Can't help giving him the side-eye, though. Mostly because he's giving it to me. Maybe I should borrow Ben Brode's Orc mask, so Mork will relax.

FYI, he does not respond well to 'Nanu, Nanu.' Word to the wise.


	187. I Knew It - More Flower-Picking on Day 117

At least we're hanging out with some of those beefcake woodcutters. Me and Zaggron are both checking out the gorgeous vista of man-flesh strutting around with us here in the forests of Talador. Or as the more Outland-savvy might call it, Terrokar Forest.

For the record, I'm only window shopping. Not interested in purchasing anything at the moment. Still sore and bruised (literally) from the last relationship; not in the market for that rebound fling. But I am also not dead. If these guys are gonna wander around topless, I'm gonna look at'em. I swear, though, if the guy who wears a double-keg beer hat so much as winks at me, I'm his.

Which kind of brings up the topic I haven't really wanted to address over the last couple of days. Am I broken up with him? Is it really over? I think, maybe, it is. For now. I wrote to Daznik about it, finally. Just to tell him that we had a 'discussion' and decided to go our separate ways for a while. I have no idea what kind of ass-kicking he'd give his brother for hitting me, so I sort of left that part out. I think Roznik got enough from Dralthar and Zaggron, without adding pissed off twin to the mix.

It feels weird, though. Like I threw the Roznik stuff in a closet and locked the door. Eventually, I'll forget what's in there, or not be so anxious about it, but right now, it's like I keep passing that door in the hallway and wondering if I should open the door or just move on down the hall. I still think about him. I still care about him. Do I still love him? That's hard to say. I think I do, but... is it enough? Is love really all you need, Mr. Lennon? Or do you need something else too? Because right now, I'm not thinking that love is the cure for asshole.


	188. I'm Dying on Day 118

The whole situation is just ridiculous to begin with, then you add poor Kuadanath's sheepish 'whattaya do' shrug to the equation, and I'm lucky I didn't pee my pants laughing. A new follower clanked homeward on Ku's coattails, one abandoned pile of semi-sentient robot designated as the Pleasure-bot 8000. I could just cry.

Not much makes Ku laugh, but this one did it. The Goblin (go figure) inventor was dicking away at it, and since Ku was on her way somewhere _loads_ more important, she got roped into doing some fetch-it work for a minute. Well, you know how those 'just collect 4' quests go. Yeesh. Anyway, she got what the guy needed, but somehow the robot imprinted on Ku, and wouldn't obey the Goblin anymore. Here's where it gets weird: _He gave the robot to Ku_. Just washed his hands of it. I know what you're thinking: WTF? How do you earn a profit from _giving away your product_? Jesus, that's like Goblin Commerce 101 stuff. Maybe he was dropped on his head as a child? Something screwy in the wiring?

Whatever, Ku got stuck with this tagalong and had no other choice but to install it here. I nudged and winked at her, asking if it had any 'attachments,' and she said she was afraid to ask. Well, fellow single sister, _Karie fears nothing_.


	189. Stunned Beyond My Capacity to Quickly Recover, Later on Day 118

I'm just sitting alone in the hut I share with Zaggron, writing because for the last hour or so, I've been staring at the wall. I've got a cute-as-fuck puppy curled up with Zugzug on my bed. I'm just... Whoa.

Okay. Here's what happened. Dralthar came over with this frostwolf pup - he named her Soka. She seems to like it. Oh my god, my heart's hammering. Hold on a second.

Better. Sort of. He wanted to take a walk, so we went up this path that took us way up on top of the overhang. Damn, the view of Frostfire Ridge was spectacular. And the moons were up and full. It was breathtaking. I still can't breathe, but it's not because of the landscape.

He told me what's been going on. We sat on a blanket he brought and had to fold double so we (make that _I_ ) wouldn't freeze my ass off. Then he totally knocked me for a loop.

Dralthar: Sorry I ain't been helpin' yuh much.

Me: That's okay. The guys told me about the Orc. I'm sure that was upsetting.

Dralthar: [nods] Yeah. [deep breath] He was carryin' this. [shows note]

Me: Um... I can't read Orcish.

Dralthar: It's from an Orc to her... her man. He was on his way to her, but he didn't make it. We buried him with honors, but I couldn't just... Figured she oughta know what happened to him. So I followed the bones she laid out as a guide.

Me: Did you find her?

Dralthar: [nods] [bows head] She was still... still waitin'. Just... sittin' next to her firepit. Buried her, too. [shows another note] Found this in her pack. They were from different clans. Couldn't get nobody's blessin' to be together, but... they loved each other, so... I guess it didn't matter.

Me: [holds his hand] I'm so sorry.

Dralthar: [points to pup] Found this little mite on my way back. Her mum was killed by a gronn, but she wasn't havin' any of my help. [small laugh] Fierce little thing. Couldn't stand seein' her go like her mum, so I chased after her. Whole time I was chasin', I was thinkin'... she's like you.

Me: [surprised] Me?

Dralthar: [nods] Lost her family, lost her pack. But fuck you, if yuh think she needs lookin' after. [laugh] Thought I was savin' her, and she ended up savin' _me_. Stompin' 'round in the dark, got one of them pale Orcs on my ass. She tore'im a new one. [serious] I want you to have her.

Me: [slightly confused] Thank you, Dralthar.

Dralthar: [deep breath] Seein' them Orcs... changed things. Had to think about it, but... I think I knew what I was gonna do the minute I saw that first note. [gather forces] You know that day at the faire? I wasn't talkin' to Roznik.

Me: You weren't?

Dralthar: I just got shit on, and there I was, lookin' at another woman, and likin' what I was seein'. [forced laugh] Like I didn't learn nothin'. Then you were gone, and I thought I was in the clear. [shakes head] Ancestor's got their own plans, though.

Me: [unsure] Um...

Dralthar: [soldiering on] Then I saw yuh again, comin' here. Figured I'd find out what kind of woman yuh really are, and that'd be the end of it. Except... I did, and it wasn't. [closes eyes] Them dead Orcs showed me life's too short to keep your mouth shut.

Me: [stunned]

Dralthar: Karie... um... I wanna... I wanna court yuh, if... if that's okay with you.

Me: [mouth agape] [utterly speechless]

Dralthar: [floundering] I don't wanna upset yuh or nothin'. I know you're still... kind of with Roznik, but... I just sort of.. wanted yuh to know where I stand.

Me: [clumsy and ineffectual shit gathering] Um... I don't know what... [breathless] I had no idea. I... um...

Dralthar: [awkward] Sorry. Had to say it. [starts to get up] Couldn't sleep 'til I told yuh.

Me: No, no. Don't leave. Sorry, I'm just... kind of reeling. I need to, um... digest this.

Dralthar: [settles back down] I don't wanna make yuh uncomfortable.

Me: I appreciate that. [trying to breathe] Can I... have some time...?

Dralthar: [nods] Yeah. All the time yuh want. [half smile] I ain't goin' nowhere.

I'm still sitting here, my mind blank, my heart freaking the fuck out. As my dad would say, I don't know whether to shit or go blind. Don't ask what that's supposed to mean, but it's a perfect description of how I'm feeling right now. I think in the morning, I'll be able to examine this a little better. For now, I'm just paralyzed from the neck up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The dead Orcs Dralthar found are involved in a non-quest sideline treasure thing in Frostfire Ridge. Just Wowhead 'Young Orc Traveler' to get the scoop and location. And bring your tissues.


	190. Suffering a Little PTSD on Day 119

I thought a good night's sleep would give me a chance to regroup and tackle the Dralthar situation with maturity and poise. Nope. First of all, not a good night. Miss Soka received a strong scolding from Zugzug in the wee hours because she got a little rambunctious before dawn. Zugzug knows I don't stir before the sun comes up. Nor do I happily entertain guests until at least noon. After the new pet orientation, things settled back down, but by then, it was too late, I was up. This after being unable to get to sleep for hours in the first place.

Zaggron asked if I was all right. I apparently look like shit, how nice of him to comment. Rather than go into the whole story, I asked kind of innocently what Orcish courtship looks like.

Zaggron: [snort] It's about time that kid said something.

Me: Um... what kid?

Zaggron: [duh] Dralthar, 'less yuh know someone else who's been sniffin' 'round yuh for weeks.

Me: [blink] When you say 'kid'...

Zaggron: [shakes head] Not like Roznik. Dralthar's maybe twenty-eight, twenty-nine. Somethin' like that. He's a kid to _me_. So're you.

Me: [relieved] That... actually explains a lot. He seems older. Wiser. More serious. [accusing] And what do you mean, you _knew_ he would talk to me about this?

Zaggron: [double-barreled duh] Come on. Plain as day.

Me: Not to _me_.

Zaggron: [dismissive] Yuh had a big ugly Troll takin' all yer attention.

Me: [pouty] Not _that_ ugly.

Zaggron: [laugh] Don't matter. So he's gonna court yuh, huh?

Me: [sigh] [nod] I guess so. He wants to, anyway. I'm... not... entirely sure about this.

Zaggron: [serious] Whattaya think? You been spendin' a lotta time with him. He... uh... 'do it' for yuh?

Me: That question has been on my mind all night.

Zaggron: And?

Me: [slow nod] Yeah, actually, he does. I'm just not sure I'm ready for... whatever this is.

Zaggron: Yuh know, courtin'll tell yuh both a lotta things. One of them things is whether yer ready or not.

Me: Is he in love with me, do you think? Is that why he brought it up?

Zaggron: [shrug] Don't know. Maybe. Reckon a courtship hunt'll make'im sure, if he ain't already.

Me: Okay. That's what I wanted to know. This hunt... What exactly do I have to do?

Zaggron: [another duh from his 'duh' bag of holding] Yuh _hunt_. Whattaya _think_ yuh do?

Me: [withering] Really. How _shocking_. I'm _serious_ , dammit.

Zaggron: [patiently - sort of] Yuh work together tuh bring somethin' down. Like a clefthoof, or a gronn. Somethin' big.

Me: Holy shit.

Zaggron: Nah, ain't so bad. He's a good hunter. Learned from the Tauren, if I remember right. He'll keep yuh outta trouble. [grin] [wink] Best part's the matin' after yuh make yer kill.

Me: [wry] Ah. I knew there was a sex-related catch to it.

Zaggron: [snort] Like that's gonna be a hardship. I reckon he's good at _that_ , too.

Me: Jealous, are we?

Zaggron: Got my own, thank-yuh-very-much. Yer Dralthar don't 'do it' fer me, if yuh must know.

Me: Good. I'm kind of selfish about my men. The ones I'm serious about, anyway. [worried] And I think this is gonna be serious.

Zaggron: [nod] Yuh better believe it's serious. He's talkin' _courtship_ , not knockin' boots for a night.

Me: I don't think I can do that anymore. The one night of... boot-knocking.

Zaggron: [approving] Good. Cause I don't think he wants tuh do that no more, neither. Not if he's goin' for a traditional courtship hunt.

I'm glad my boss can tell me about this stuff, because I don't know any of the women grunts well enough, and the only other Orc women are Frostwolves. It's going to be a long while before I'm capable of having a conversation like this with one of them. If ever I needed Korky, it's now. I _really_ wish she was here.

But honestly, I do like Dralthar. I can say with full confidence that he's attractive to me. As a man. Even though he has purple hair, not red. I asked Zaggron about that, since he's also sporting a distinctly violet head of hair, and he said that's Goblin ingenuity, not heredity. Normally, Zaggron has greying black hair. Most Orcs have black or dark brown hair. Anyone who's deviating from those shades has been to the barbershop.

I like it. It looks good on them both.

Regardless, the more I think about Dralthar in this new context, the more I like him. Which has me worried in and of itself. I mean, Roznik _just_ showed his ass and got voted off the Karie Show. I feel like I should wait a respectable amount of time before diving into another pair of pants. It's only been, what, ten days? Is this _real_ , or a reaction to extreme disappointment? Am I going to jump on the Dralthar bandwagon, then suddenly wake up and jump right back off? I don't want to do that to him. Or me. Shit, I don't know what to do here. I still care about Roznik. I think. Maybe. Son of a bitch. I've never been less sure of anything in my life.


	191. And So It Begins, Evening of Day 119

Dralthar came by the garden to chat. He was visibly nervous, in a 'morning after' sort of way. I'd spent the whole day trying to figure this out so that, just in case he showed up, I'd have some kind of intelligent-sounding response. Nope. Jesus Christ, I could barely talk to him. He asked if I'd prefer some distance along with that time I asked for. I didn't know what to say. All of a sudden, I was something like thirteen with a crush on a smokin' hot football player from _the_ _high school_. The big time, you know? Since I kept blushing and stammering, he suggested we just take a walk. So we did. Eventually I calmed down enough to say something that didn't sound stupid as hell. Okay, not _really_ stupid. Just marginally stupid.

Me: I asked Zaggron what a courtship's all about.

Dralthar: [nod] Knows more'n I do about it, old-timer like him. [chuckle] Don't tell'im I said that.

Me: [wan smile] I won't. Um... I'm a little... nervous about it. The hunting part. I'm literally the lamest hunter ever born.

Dralthar: [amused] That's all right. I ain't picked up a gun in... shit, not for years. [frown] Couldn't stomach it no more; the killin'. Battle glory... victory or death. [shakes head] Kept seein' that house go up in flames, my f-... family trapped... Weren't no glory in that.

Me: [comforting] I don't blame you at all. [laugh] I literally got arrested by the Alliance because I refused to kill the Blackrock Orcs encroaching on Elwynn Forest. [embarrassed] I sort of... partied with them instead.

Dralthar: [laugh] Thought you liked Trolls.

Me: [smirk] I've had my share of Orcs. [falter] [awkward] Um... sorry.

Dralthar: [shrug] 'S'okay. Don't matter to me what yuh done. _Who_ yuh done. [wink] [smile] Workin' at the Faire, yuh get a lot of... opportunities.

Me: [roll eyes] Tell me about it. I was one of those 'opportunities' myself once. Not to derail the gripping 'How Many Beds We've Hopped' discussion, but how did you get involved with the Faire in the first place?

Dralthar: Well, there weren't no Orgrimmar when we got outta them camps, so I lived in Mulgore for a time. Did a lotta fightin' there, too. Clearin' out centaur tribes; that sorta thing. Once Thunder Bluff was built, the Faire started showin' up every few months.

Me: [surprised] Back then? Seriously?

Dralthar: Yeah. Been around a while. Saw'em settin' up, and got curious. Figured it'll be a break from centaur-killin'. [wry] Not that them bastards don't need killin'. Anyway, I kinda liked what I saw. Not the weird shit, but... the whole... thing. [shrug] Sort of quiet. Nobody talkin' 'bout war and shit. Alliance and Horde folks together and not at each other's throats.

Me: [nod] It gets old after awhile.

Dralthar: It does. [chuckle] I signed on that day. Looked like they needed someone who knew how to work with animals, and my... I guess you could call him my da, he taught me a lot. Mister Darkmoon took me in, and I been with the Faire ever since.

For our entire walk, I had this intense feeling of _yes, this is what a GROWN UP man is all about_. Not speeding to the nearest bed, not telling me about how awesome our next fuck is going to be. I literally know _nothing_ about Roz's past, other than what Jozala told me. _He_ never talked about it. It was all about the here and now with him. Oh, and the occasional trot through _my_ history so he could slap me with it later.

I'm going to gather up my courage and tell Dralthar about the game. I have to. I don't want secrets between us, and if this shit is a game-changer - so to speak - for him, let's get it over with now before I fall hopelessly in love with him. Because holy crap, he's doing it for me. He's seriously, totally, completely _doing it for me_. Not to mention, being around him now has reduced me to a quivering pile of jelly.


	192. Invitation to Nerd-Fest on Day 120

I decided that, if I was going to freak Dralthar out completely, I was doing it with back-up. I dragged Zaggron along, and collared Kuadanath as well. I wanted my friends and my... um... whatever category Dralthar falls into, to know this about me.

I started slow, describing the television concept. In a world with scrying magic available, where you just drink a stinky potion or cast an Eagle Eye spell and boom, you're able to see something happening miles away, they grasped the idea pretty easily. Then I raised the bar to computers - machines that expand that vision to a broader view, can calculate and extrapolate and damn near reason at the press of a button. This was a little harder to comprehend, so I qualified things by using the level of technological advancement to illustrate how much further along the evolutionary scale my world is. I mean crap, we've put people on our moon, and we don't have Goblins or Gnomes to build the rockets necessary for the trip. _Or_ magic, I pointed out.

Then I went for broke. I couched it in terms of a society that is so advanced (compared to here, anyway) that we practically require an avenue of entertainment to keep us from going nuts, and we've adapted these computers to provide that entertainment in the form of games. (A little bit of Star Trek TOS referencing there.) The games range from the simple to the highly complex. Because we're basically sitting in front of a screen, the games are interactive - you don't just sit there watching the action happening in front of you like you would a television, you actually have a degree of control over what happens. You use input devices like a keyboard and mouse (lots of WTF looks over that one) to control a representation of yourself, interacting within the game.

So once we established this weirdness, I brought it home. There's a game series called Warcraft, that gives us a version of _this world_. Of Azeroth, as though we're looking _at_ Azeroth, but... not really. I gave the example of the _For the Horde_ and _For the Alliance_ achievements, where you bust into the enemy capital and kill the faction leaders. The looks of 'holy shit!' were exchanged again, and I told them I've done _For the Horde_ something like five times. Folks get together and kill people like Thrall, King Wrynn, Sylvanas, and Cairne, or Bain now, Bloodhoof _all the time_. They just respawn and everything's back to normal. Nothing is permanent, and nothing we do in this little fake Azeroth has any bearing on the real Azeroth.

I told them that I was playing this game when, somehow and for some reason, I ended up in Stormwind. Like, _physically_ in Stormwind.

It was Dralthar who kind of hesitantly asked what my representation in this game was. Did it look the way I do now? I had to sheepishly confess that my avatar was a male Goblin, so no, not even close to how I normally look. In fact, how I look to them _now_ is nothing like how I looked on my world. As if I'm possessing the body of a native Azerothan, in a sense. I don't _think_ I am, but... I just don't know for sure. I get no sense of another personality underlying my own, anyway.

Zaggron wanted to know what the future holds. How is this little dance with the Iron Horde going to shake out? I had to tell him that I'm completely in the dark. I got picked up and dumped in Azeroth, and the world I knew through the game ceased to be a reference point almost instantly. Everything that has happened since then has been a complete surprise, without exception. Kuadanath asked if I knew people, other than the leaders I mentioned. If _they_ were somehow 'in the game' as well. I had to break it to her that yes, a hefty chunk of the people I've run across randomly here, I also bumped into through the game. Like Mulverick and Greatmother Geyah, not to mention Gazlowe - he's a well-known figure in Ratchet, handing out quests to the gamers.

Oh, then the quest discussion ramped up. They wanted to know about that - what in hell was I tasked to do? I gave a few silly examples, like harvesting dead bear asses in Western Plaguelands, killing X number of [insert random enemy/critter/dillweed], that one series of completely asinine quests for the mage-whose-name-I-forgot in Azshara. I told them about the rewards - most of the time it's just money, sometimes you get gear.

I sort of peeked at Dralthar to gauge how he was taking this. He had a deep frown on his face, which made me very nervous. Then he asked what the goal of this game was. That was a stumper. If we were playing poker, the end goal would be to either have the winning hand, or bluff your opponent into thinking you do. For Warcraft, the end goal seems to be survival. Living, sort of, in an ever-changing world where, just when you think you've accomplished some important milestone like finally reaching and beating the crap out of the Lich King, another expansion comes out and you've got another goal to work toward. All for the ultimate good of the world, pretty much. I didn't give them the hard truth, which is more likely that leveling and earning bragging rights for accomplishing unbelievably weird shit was the goal on at least some people's agendas. Better to make it sound at least vaguely altruistic.

Kuadanath: You... play this game as... a Goblin.

Me: Sometimes. There was a new expansion that let us choose to play as a Goblin, so I was checking it out. I usually play as, um... Tauren. [weak smile]

Kuadanath: [chuckle] Good choice.

Me: I'm always Horde, though. Yes, I'm human normally - everyone on my world is - but humans aren't members of the Horde. Imagine how pissed I was when I found myself looking like _this_. [long-suffering sigh]

Dralthar: [smile] Looks good on yuh.

Me: [furious blushing]

Zaggron: Ever play as an Orc?

Me: [sheepish] No. Sorry, but... Okay, the game designers got _a lot_ of Azeroth right, but there are some things they got dead wrong. Like... how an Orc really looks, for one.

Zaggron: [exchange curious glance with Dralthar] How d'we look, then?

Me: Well... Imagine yourself... um... hunched over, with shoulders way the hell out to here, really _hugely_ big-ass muscles, a lantern jaw with these ridiculously _tall_ tusks... You could poke your own eyes out with those things.

Dralthar: [narrows eyes] Uh...

Me: Yeah, I know, right? _Much_ hotter on this side of the screen. [confidential aside] You ask me, the designers were compensating for something, if you know what I mean.

Dralthar: [laugh]

Me: Female Orcs, though, look just about right. No idea why they thought the boys needed to look so frickin' different from their lady friends. [shakes head] There's not much difference between boys and girls in terms of body mass here, really. But... well, you guys _are_ bigger to some extent than a human. Thicker trunk, taller, more muscular in general. Just not ridiculously so, you know?

Zaggron: [smirk] Humans are wimps.

Me: Amen, brother.

Zaggron: We're still green, though, right?

Me: Oh, sure. Yeah. All kinds of shades of it, just like here. And the Mag'har are brown, like you guys would be if Ner'zhul and Gul'dan hadn't been such huge assholes.

Dralthar: [snort] Still assholes. Even in _this_ timeline.

Zaggron: [uncomfortable] The, uh... wars and such. Is that in yer game?

Me: [sympathetic] Yeah. An earlier version than I was playing, but... yeah.

Kuadanath: This is entertainment for your people? To participate in another's war?

Me: [embarrassed] You'd be surprised. War games are very popular, especially for our own wars. People who are too young to have fought, too young to remember when they were happening, not even born yet - they want to pretend for a minute that they're a soldier fighting for... whatever. Completely safe from actual combat. No chance of getting hurt or hurting someone else in real life. [grimace] Very popular.

Dralthar: Do you play them?

Me: No, not me. Gore and blood and limbs getting blown off... Not my bag, baby.

Kuadanath: Are _we_ \- the three of us - in this game?

Me: No. None of you are. Call it... processing overhead, technological limitations, whatever, but there are far fewer people shown in the game than I'll normally see in one place here. But 'big name' people like the faction leaders, their friends and family, select random folks picked out here and there - I've met them. Sort of. Okay, I've literally seen Thrall meet Greatmother Geyah, his own grandma, for the first time at least twenty times. The game just keeps playing that scene whenever someone progresses through this one particular questline. I just happened to be in Garadar at the right time... twenty times. But I couldn't really interact with them or interrupt their meeting. They were following a script laid out by the game, and I could only watch. That's how it is for pretty much all the characters you run across. They'll have a scripted response or none at all. [laugh] Of course, if you poke them enough times, they'll say some pretty funny things.

Kuadanath: Such as...?

Me: [grin] Peons will say, 'Me not that kind of Orc!'

Dralthar/Zaggron: [gut-busting laughter]

Overall, I'd say the Introduction to MMO Gaming 101 class went over pretty well. I'm relieved. Dralthar, at least, isn't acting like Roznik did when he discovered my little 'secret.' Probably because he didn't have to infer it for himself. So that was a huge mistake I made, letting a bomb like that drop at random. I feel much better about it this time around.

Yeah. I think I'm going to accept the courtship offer. Well, maybe the startup. I'm not sure I'm ready for the hunt-and-mate part. Let me dry off a little more from the last dip in the relationship pool before diving back in.

Not because I can't go five minutes without a man in my life. I'm just finding it really hard to resist him, and he's not doing anything more than being a friend to me right now. No pressure, no urgency to commit, no shit-posting about Roznik on the community announcement board. He's being a perfect gentleman. And he gave me a puppy. Extra points for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Assuming ya'all aren't quite as geeky as me, the Star Trek episode referenced is "Shore Leave." The Azshara-zone mage with the sucky questline is Archmage Xylem. When I started writing this fic back in 2011, Cataclysm had come out, but we were still a year away from Mists of Pandaria, making Karie's knowledge of anything leading up to MoP a first-person, as opposed to in-game, experience. As for how many of her friends are 'in the game,' Karie has it wrong, of course - Zaggron is an NPC in the Warlords of Draenor expansion, specifically your garrison's botanist who bumbles around the herb garden refusing to get involved when the podling pops out of your plant and attacks you. Thanks, man. :P Kuadanath and Dralthar, however, are my own personal main toon and one of my many alts, respectively. So technically, they're all three 'in the game,' just not at the same time. ;)


	193. First Meeting of the Frostfire Ridge Polar Bear Club, Day 121

It must've been a really slow day in the garrison, because Dralthar stopped by to see if I'd like to take a dip in the pool. There is one big, crescent-moon-shaped waterway sort of cradling our strip of land here under the overhang, then there's a separate pool. The big one is super-heated at one end by a nearby lava flow, which was recently converted into a makeshift slow-cooker for the new open-air café up the hill from us. I'm not joking - some enterprising person (probably a Goblin) erected a tent right next to the lava pit, complete with stove, bar, and stools, and then hung a meat rack over the lava. I haven't had a chance to sample the goods yet, but I hear it isn't bad.

Anyway, you can see the steam coming off the pool there, so I figured, yeah, sure. I _probably_ won't freeze my ass off too much. Then he told me it wouldn't just be the two of us; there was going to be a bunch of various folks from the garrison cannon-balling into the deep end with us. Perhaps a little late in the game, I asked if this happy load of over-excited swimmers would be skinny-dipping. Thank god, _no_. However, even stripping down to your skivvies for three seconds before taking the plunge will still result in blue skin and goose bumps, trust me.

I have to admit, it was nice. We had all the stable hands, making me wonder who was taking care of the new frostwolf pups; about half a dozen woodcutters; Gorsol the mine foreman; pretty much all the Frostwolf clan stationed in the garrison, including Mulverick, Karg, Lokra, and Ka'la; and Zaggron. All Orcs, all in their underwear.

The view was glorious.

As if Dralthar with clothes _on_ wasn't already drawing my eye, take most of them off and I needed a drool bucket. Sure, the rest of the Orcs were total eye candy, but... Well, Dralthar's kind of different. Especially now.

Here's what really did me in. There we were, surrounded by hot, sexy, nearly naked men, and he wasn't acting like he owned me or like the others were in any way a threat to his standing with me. He handled me kind of casually, in a slightly-more-than-friendly way. Like with familiarity, but not too presumptuous. After what I just went through with Roznik... Instead of reciting a series of canned come-ons or making suggestive remarks, he told me that he hoped we'd get more days like this, where things are quiet and the gang can just chill out. He also translated some of the conversations around us, and helped me talk to Ka'la. I really wanted to thank her for being nice to me after the Roznik thing, and Dralthar made that happen.

It's hard to put into words. I just feel... relaxed. Maybe it was the hot water, or the way Dralthar acted. He has a quiet confidence about him that just... draws me in. And I mean that - it's _confidence_ , not smugness. It's like he's sure of himself and his place in the world. He knows who he is. He's been through a lot, and come out a stronger person. There's a sense of patience about him, too. He knows I'm not going to just get over Roznik in a heartbeat. He understands that I need some time to reset the system. I have no doubt that he's waiting for me to make the next move. I honestly don't know what my next move is going to be, or when I'm going to make it. Right now, I just like being with him. I enjoy his company. I like _him_.

Okay, honesty time: I want him. Yeah, I've noticed other men before, but I never really felt that urge to screw someone once I was with Roznik. It's like I would _notice_ a hot guy, but not really _register_ his hotness in a 'gimme some of that' sort of way. Just sort of, 'eh, cute,' and move on. Because my heart and mind were focused on the man I was with. Well, the _boy_ I was with, let's be honest. But all of a sudden, that quivering loins feeling is happening a hell of a lot when I'm around Dralthar, thinking of Dralthar, seeing Dralthar from clear across the garrison... It's a bit unsettling. I'm still getting that knee-jerk sense of 'you're not allowed to lust' at the moment. Also a fear that if Roznik somehow finds out about this, he's going to come screaming back to the garrison to pound faces in. Mine included.

And that just pisses me off. Dammit, I _knew_ this was going to be an issue when he tore that Orc apart at Sen'jin. I remember thinking, _What if we break up? Will he freak the fuck out like this with me?_ Sure enough, he lost his shit over the _idea_ that I might want to break up with him for being an asshole.

On second thought, _no_ , I'm not dwelling on his ass right now. I just had a really awesome day with a man who fucking respects me, and I'm not letting that immature little shit ruin it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I can't believe I made it past 100K words without at least one bath scene. That gross oversight has now been rectified. ;)


	194. Day 122: What the Fuck am I Doing?

I don't know what I'm doing. I _love_ Roznik, don't I? What kind of person am I, that I can just toss that aside the minute we have a little disagreement? Okay, it was more than a 'little' disagreement. Bigger, maybe, than a lover's spat. But still. I've been with him for months; most of the time I've been here in Azeroth. Maybe that's not a _really_ long time, but...

But who am I kidding? The only time he seemed to trust me was when I was under that stupid-ass oath. And yet if I'd _broken_ it to fuck him in particular, he wouldn't have said no. He would've let me do the dishonorable thing, then probably treated me like shit for it. Looking back on our relationship, it seemed to be focused on sex: what we'll do after the oath expires, when we'll next twist the bedclothes, how many orgasms he thinks he can trigger. What the hell is that? Some relationship _that_ is. How could I have settled for so little?

Yes, the sex was fantastic. But that's not the be-all, end-all. Did I think I could change him? Again, what the hell is _that_? It's like poison, that's what. You just _don't_ walk into a mature relationship with a renovation plan. You're supposed to go in accepting the other person's little foibles and 'charming' quirks. If you have _any_ misgivings before it gets going, learn to live with them or _get the fuck out_.

I don't think I _consciously_ wanted to change him. Except that whole insecurity thing. And I wanted him to grow up. Just... shit some self-confidence, will you? Did I think _I_ could make a difference? That all he needed was me snuggling up to him to improve his self-esteem? Obviously, it didn't work at all. I seem to have made things worse, somehow. As evidenced by the escalation of shit-head behavior culminating in a publicly witnessed abuse scene.

What's triggering this meltdown, by the way, is that he sent me this note:

_Karie,_

_Kuadanath won't let me come back to the garrison to see you, and I'm afraid you won't come here again._ _Daznik wrote to tell me I was hurting you and I'd better stop before you toss me aside. That's what made me mad; you told **him** what you wouldn't say to me. I've lost women to him before. I didn't want to lose you, too._

_I'm sorry. I don't know what happened, what came over me, but I know I fucked up. I'll do anything to make up for it. Anything you want. Just don't leave me. **Please** don't do that. I love you with all my heart. I'm empty without you. I'm **lost** without you. Everything I'm doing here, I'm doing so you'll be proud of me. Please tell me there's hope left for us._

_Love, Roznik_

I've re-read this thing multiple times. There's still accusation and distrust going on. Like just _talking_ to his brother prompts the fear of a hookup attempt. And how many times do I have to tell this moron that I don't need him to save the fucking world in order to earn my affection? For Christ's sake, Dralthar shovels _shit_ , and I'm falling for _him_ head over heels.

Oh god, I am, aren't I? Jesus mother-fucking Christ. What am I going to do?


	195. Later on Day 122: The Game Gets Called on Account of Rain

I wish I could say it's too much, too fast, and let that be the excuse for dialing back with Dralthar. But he hasn't been pressuring me. It's almost like it was before he said anything. He's still teaching me Orcish - which I _suck_ at. About the only thing that's different is that now... I don't know, he just seems so much more relaxed. I guess it was weighing on him a bit, holding his feelings in.

I talked to him tonight; told him that I just can't do the courtship thing right now. I'm having a good old-fashioned guilt trip about it. Maybe worrying too much about how it looks, with me getting pounded by Roznik in the middle of the garrison, then 'suddenly' taking up with another guy. Pretty much justifying his accusations of faithlessness.

And damn him all to hell and back, he was _okay with it._ No, I wasn't aiming to hurt him or anything. It's just that... god dammit, he's such a nice guy! It's just not fucking fair. He must be the most patient man alive. Naturally, I was stumbling all over myself, trying to let him down gently - but not really close the door on him. God, I don't want to do that. He's just... Christ. 'Perfect' is too strong, but I can't think of anything else that fits.

He shushed me. The babbling and blithering was getting out of control, so he just pressed a finger to my lips and said, _It's okay_.

Dralthar: I picked a really shitty time to unload on yuh like this. I'm sorry for that.

Me: I don't know when there would've been a better moment. Maybe not for a while.

Dralthar: I should've waited. [sigh] I wasn't thinkin' I'd miss my chance or nothin'. Like... you'd be off after another real quick if I didn't jump on yuh. [chuckle] So to speak. I can see now, the hurt runs too deep. I told yuh cause... with me goin' out after more wolves, and you headin' outta the garrison to get flowers... Anything could happen to us. I didn't wanna see you... [falter] Not without sayin' somethin'. And... seein' if... there's a chance. For you and me. Sometime.

Me: [sincere] There is. I like you. _A lot_. The last couple of days... You've been really great.

Dralthar: But you ain't ready for courtin'.

Me: [wince] No. I'm _so_ sorry.

Dralthar: [holds my hands] Hey. It's all right. Gotta let things settle before yuh stir'em up again. I understand.

Me: [weak smile] Don't go far, now. This is just a rain check.

Dralthar: [frown] What's a 'rain check'?

Me: [chuckle] It's when the game gets interrupted because it's raining. You keep your ticket so you can go back when the game picks up again later. I promise you, this game isn't over.

Dralthar: [grin] That's good to hear. I ain't done playin'.

Me: [smile] I guess I'm not, either.

I keep going back and forth - some of it in the form of pacing around this tiny little hut, or doing laps in the herb garden - worrying about what people are thinking, what sort of freak out Roznik's going to have, and wondering just exactly what I'm feeling. I mean, I don't think I had very strong feelings about Dralthar in the beginning, then he said he'd like to court me, and all of a sudden, it was like getting hit with a tsunami wave of warm fuzzies. Like those feelings were sitting just off-stage, waiting for their cue.

My defenses bottomed out when Roz attacked my integrity, my honesty, my _honor_ in a public forum. I felt lower than worm shit. Then out of nowhere, Dralthar literally picked me up, dusted me off, and told me he likes and trusts me enough to start up a courtship. Pretty much a desperately needed bit of reassurance. It's no damn wonder I slid right into his hands.

But the thing is... I don't _think_ I want to slide back out. Dralthar is a dear, sweet man. I'm attracted to him on so many levels, like he's got everything I need, and all the things I'm looking for. Roznik said he could give me what I needed, but I don't think he knew what that was. Dralthar seems to have a better sense of what I need, and he's giving it to me without even declaring that he's doing it. Because he doesn't have to.

And I want to give _him_ what _he_ needs. I'm just... afraid to, I guess. Because of that Troll standing in front of me, sort of blocking my view. Dammit, sooner or later, I'm going to have to tell him. Not just that it's over - when I'm really, really sure it is - but that there's someone else. I am _not_ looking forward to that conversation.


	196. Officially a Dumbass on Day 123

What with all the battlefront shenanigans going on, a shipment of fresh troops ported into the garrison this morning, and I about died. It looked like an airport terminal, with loads of folks waiting around for the portal to open and the newbies to arrive. A newbie lady walked out of the portal, straight up to Dralthar, and gave him a huge hug. They both looked relieved to see one another, and I just...

My gut clenched, seriously. I could almost hear the thud when my stomach hit bottom. This woman was young, gorgeous, sleek, refined... and an Orc. I'm not ten minutes into a thing with him, and some random woman comes along, and I couldn't even. Maybe he wasn't worried about me grabbing the first guy who walked past, but all of a sudden, it looked like he was doing it himself. Except with a woman.

The feelings of 'missed opportunity,' 'how could I be so stupid, telling him I'm not ready,' and 'christ, you've only been interested in him for two days or something, GET OVER IT' lasted about five minutes, then he brought her over and introduced her... as his sister. Not by blood, though. He explained that when he was about ten, she was born in the camp and he took care of her the best he could, because her parents were too lethargic to do it 24/7. There were a lot of kids left on their own most of the time, so the older ones looked out for the little ones.

I'm still kicking myself over the knee-jerk freak out. It seems a little early to be this attached to him. But I guess the whole Roznik thing has left me feeling really vulnerable and fragile. I want him to wait for me to sort out my feelings, even though nobody should have to be that frickin' patient. Even if he seems to be.

Anyway, her name's Gishka, and she's a mage. The refinement came from training among the Elves, as opposed to the Orcs. She completely squelched my worry about whether there was something going on between them.

Gishka: You didn't even mention me? [affronted] [swats Dralthar] I've only been gone for a year or two, you great buffoon!

Dralthar: [defensive] I had a lotta things on my mind! [nods toward me] So... whattaya think of her?

Gishka: [calmer] [looks me over] Well, I suppose... ['you'll do' shrug] I can see why Thunk favors you.

Me: [blink] Um... Thunk?

Dralthar: [groan] [eye roll] Did yuh have to mention that?

Gishka: [amused] I will always call you Thunk. [to me] We had rats in our shelter almost as big as me. I was terrified of them. Even the children weren't allowed so much as a stick as a weapon, so he slew the rats by hand. [grin] He 'thunked' them on the head.

Me: [laugh]

Dralthar: Gishka couldn't say my name real well, so... Thunk kinda stuck.

Me: Don't take this the wrong way, but you remind me of another Orc I ran across in Orgrimmar. Just... [vague gestures] Like you've spent a lot of time in Silvermoon, you know? Except that woman was a total bitch.

Gishka: [disgusted] Ugh. I know exactly who you mean. I dread going to Dalaran for fear I'll run into her and feel obligated to be polite.

Me: A friend of mine was tortured in SI:7 custody, for crying out loud, barely escaped, and she bitched about being inconvenienced by helping him get home. [scowl] Damn near punched her lights out myself.

Gishka: [grin] [to Dralthar] I like her! [to me] I think we'll be great friends, so long as you take care of my big brother. You will, won't you? He needs looking after; don't let the 'big, strong man' act fool you. [wink]

Dralthar: [delicately] We ain't... really... I mean... Um... [glance at me]

Me: [administer the save] I just got out of a pretty bad relationship. It's still a little early...

Gishka: [sympathetic] Oh, I'm so sorry.

Me: [sheepish] It's... kind of embarrassing.

Dralthar: Yuh don't have nothin' to be embarrassed about. [to Gishka] He didn't like her writin' to his brother and... got shitty. Real loud, and in the middle of the garrison. Blew a gasket on her before, too. In Razor Hill.

Gishka: [blink] Oh, that was _you_? Right before the siege?

Me: [die of embarrassment] What, it was front page news? [valiant subject change attempt] Um... so... what are the new troops supposed to be doing?

Gishka: A new outpost has been built in the Spires of Arak. We'll be heading out to Axefall tomorrow, I believe. [aside] The tavern had better serve wine. I've developed quite a taste for it. [blush] And I hope Lugrum is there.

Dralthar: [brotherly posturing] If he is, he better treat yuh right, or I'll see about it.

Gishka: [playful swat] Oh, stop it. I can manage my own affairs, thank you very much. [to me] Far too protective. So this previous lover of yours... I suspect Dralthar feels the need to protect you from him, does he?

Dralthar: Not really. [chuckle] If he hadn't thrown her fer a loop, she probably would've hit him back.

Gishka: [shocked] Hit him back? He hit you? In the middle of the garrison?

Dralthar: [wince] Ah, shit. Sorry.

Gishka: No wonder you're seeing to this woman's protection so vigorously! [stern] I've half a mind to pay him a visit myself. Where is he stationed?

Me: Oh my god, don't. The Commander won't let him come back here, so it's not even an issue. But... thanks for having my back. [sheepish] It makes me feel pretty good about... certain things.

Gishka: Thunk, you had better treat this woman with respect, do you understand?

Dralthar: [sigh] 'Course I will. I _do_. [to me] Don't I?

Me: He does. Seriously.

Gishka: Very well. I suppose I don't need to worry for you, Karie. But I likely will. You deserve better. [glance at Dralthar] I suppose Thunk counts as 'better.' [grin]

Dralthar: [sarcastic] Thanks.

Gotta admit, I love Dralthar's sister. I wish Gishka could stay longer. After she gets her debriefing with the rest of the new recruits in the main hall, she wants to check out the barbecue by the lava pool, just us girls. She promises some juicy gossip about Dralthar that my nosey ass can't wait to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Another shout-out to Mad Gamer Chick Fallout: Fentulk's Story. The obnoxious-mage-nobody-wants-to-be-friends-with is Ghakora.


	197. An Unexpected Recruit Arrives, Later on Day 123

Not long after the troops from Orgrimmar ported in and started getting their marching orders, a couple of rylaks from Talador delivered two new followers. I don't often notice the strays Kuadanath brings in unless they're weird, so you can probably imagine. One was a Forsaken guy that Ku found under a tree, of all places. I know I've heard the name Barov before; I get one of those deja vu senses of time/place when I hear it. I want to say Scholomance, but alas, I can't Wowhead that to be sure.

So he's a snotty noble who considers the world at large to be beneath him. I restrained the urge to point out that the ones who have lumber fall on them are generally considered to be assholes. The Wicked Witch of the East being a prime example.

The other new face completely floored me, not only because she's a Draenei, but because I've been so wrapped up in my own little web of issues, I completely missed a couple of major battles that are ultimately the reason why we brought in reinforcements from Orgrimmar. To my complete shock, in a very short period of time, Orgrim Doomhammer was found to be a subordinate of Blackhand (timeline accuracy - _check_ ), turned on his boss when Blackhand's level of fuckhead reached critical mass (timeline accuracy - _check_ ), then was killed in the ensuing confrontation (timeline accuracy - _nope_ ). I wish I'd met him. Kroxxar was there for the battle and is recuperating in the infirmary wing of the barracks; he said Durotan was really broken up about it, almost as much as he was over the loss of Ga'nar, which is only to be expected, given their nearly life-long friendship.

Well, after the Iron Fleet was sunk in that battle, there was a bit of a scuffle in Auchindoun as well, and that's where the Draenei came from. Her title is Soulbinder - which doesn't surprise me, considering Auchindoun is a gigantic tomb - Tuulani. It's kind of complicated, but the gist is that for both battles, there was a strong Alliance presence alongside the Horde. Both Kuadanath and Sharis were there, being the commanders of their respective forces. They pretty much struck a deal after Auchindoun to do a recruit exchange, whereby the opposing faction rep becomes an 'in' for cross-garrison visits.

What could we possibly need from Sharis's garrison? Couch space for when we visit Shadowmoon Valley for resource collection. It's a hefty haul from Frostfire Ridge; you'll want to stay overnight. Likewise, one of the Frostwolves volunteered to be our rep in Sharis's base. I expect a business trip sometime in the near future because I'm sure Shadowmoon Valley has some kind of flower Zaggron won't be able to resist.


	198. In the Wee Hours of Day 123

I just had the most awesome girls-date ever. Gishka is the kind of lady who puts you straight at your ease, no matter what doofus things you thought when you first saw her hugging your potential boyfriend. I have no idea why she's shipping out with the troops, for crying out loud, when she should be running the Horde. Or at least taking the chieftain-like position with the Orcs. I mean, dang, we've got racial faction reps for everyone else, right? Warchief ain't just for Orcs anymore, so they need a leader. She may be in the same age range as Roznik, but she's got a better handle on her shit than he does, by a long mile.

Anyway, as promised, the juicy gossip machine revved up and spewed out a handful of delicious treats. The big ones that stand out are cute as all hell.

The first time Gishka visited her big bro at the Faire a few years ago, he put her up for the night in his tent. That's when she discovered that he still has a little rag doll made from left over scraps of cloth. The doll was made by his 'mom' because the shelters were very dark and creepy at night, and he was a nervous little kid. And this was before the Faire's island opened for general visitation, so that means he's been hauling this doll around with him everywhere he goes. I want to see this precious thing so badly it hurts.

Gishka's next reveal was that Dralthar is a hell of a good dancer, but absolutely won't do it in front of people. Yes, my head went immediately to the game's male Orc dance, and I almost died. Note to self: get a Goblin jug band going and sneak a peek inside the stables when the hoe-down starts.

The absolute capper was that Dralthar - tough, serious, manly Dralthar - has a particular affection for bunnies. Gishka said he'd literally step in front of an oncoming kodo stampede to keep them from trampling a sweet little rabbit.

How could I not love this guy? Seriously. Gishka's advice was just to go with it. Don't push it, but don't overthink it, either. Also, even though he seemed to have forgotten her existence whenever he was talking to me, he did send her a letter about things around the time of his courtship offer. She could tell by the way he described me that he's in love.

Which has me laying on my bunk, squished against the wall because of sleeping wolf spread times two, listening to Zaggron rattling the rafters, and thinking how good it feels to know these things about Dralthar. Especially the 'loves me' bit. There is no known meter able to accurately measure the level of warm fuzzies now percolating inside me.

Either I'm suffering amnesia or it just didn't happen, but I swear Roznik never made me feel half this good.


	199. Cutting the Cord on Day 124

It's been a really long day. The longest I've ever endured, and that's saying something. First thing this morning, we had another portal open up and spew out a visitor from Orgrimmar. To my complete shock, it was Daznik, looking surprisingly spry considering he was 'bed ridden' when I last saw him. He was also extremely pissed.

Turns out, he didn't need me to rat out his brother; someone here did it for me. He didn't name names, but he did kind of scold me lightly for not telling him about the arena event. It took him a little while to get freed up, then he came screaming out here to give Roznik an extreme tongue-lashing. With a brief stop-over at the garrison to make sure I was holding up all right.

I sat him down and broke the developing Dralthar situation as delicately as I could. No sense in letting him think there was actually a chance for Roz to crawl back into my good graces. I reassured him that it was really sudden; not like I'd been messing around shamelessly with him for weeks or something. Dralthar may have crappy timing, but it wasn't THAT crappy. Thankfully, Daznik was understanding. He confessed that he's dealing with a similar 'holy crap' thing with Minara that took them both by surprise and still hasn't gained acceptance from his dad. Which he doesn't expect, or really give a shit about. But he said it happens that fast, sometimes. Especially when someone you thought you loved betrays your trust so completely, leaving your heart open to enemy invasion. Which is not how he put it, but that was the gist.

I decided to go with him to Beastwatch and have it out with Roznik. I can't keep operating in neutral, with Roz thinking I just need to chill for a minute and it'll all go back to normal. I had to calm several pairs of tits: Zaggron blew a gasket, Rala made several rude statements about Roz's parentage (and Daznik's, by default), and Dralthar insisted on coming with us. I almost had to break out the elephant tranquilizers to keep those three from hopping the next rylak to Gorgrond.

In the end, I clung desperately to an extremely skinny rylak that likes to glide, while Daznik soared in bat form beside me. When we landed, we were 'lucky': most of the troops were there hanging out. Roznik was only briefly happy to see us before Daznik thumped his shoulders and started in.

I know just enough Zandali to gather that Daz was extremely displeased with Roz's behavior. I just stood off to the side and hugged myself while the two of them bellowed at one another. I guess I've known Roz just long enough to be able to tell when he's trying to hide how embarrassed he is. It was painfully obvious that he'd entered defensive mode and was pulling any excuse he could think of out of his ass. Including accusing me of hiding things from him.

I almost thought he meant Dralthar, but it had to do with the letter to his mom. Which Daz informed him was addressed to Jozala, not him, so get over it. Daz is good at this; he had a rejoinder for every asinine thing his brother said. But just recalling that verbal slug-fest wears me out.

Eventually, Roz was knocked down a few notches, enough for the two of us to talk.

Roznik: Ah said ah was sorry. Yuh don' believe meh?

Me: How can I? I thought we resolved this after Razor Hill. I thought you believed ME.

Roznik: [contrite] Ah DO believe yuh. Somewhat. [sigh] [subdued] Karie, ah'm not... good at dis.

Me: What? Apologizing?

Roznik: If yuh'd jus' be... less... Yuh don' let meh be yuh mon. Yuh protectuh. Yuh don' let meh do _nothin'_ foh yuh.

Me: [cold] Why should I? Why should I cut myself off at the knees to soothe your manly pride?

Roznik: Cuz dat's duh way it s'posed tuh be! Ah do duh fightin' and yuh wait foh meh tuh come to yuh...

Me: Bullshit. Utter bullshit. Let me tell you how it's 'supposed' to be. You do your thing, I do mine, and we meet in the middle. We do things together. Fight together, if we have to. Support each other. Love each other. I'm not the kind of person who sits meekly in the kitchen while 'my man' does everything for me.

Roznik: [stubborn] Dat's how it's gotta be. Yuh don' unduhstan' what yuh s'posed tuh do...

Me: No, I think it's you who doesn't understand. I'm not changing who I am to suit you, Roznik.

Roznik: Den how can ah trust yuh? How ah be sure yuh ain' fuckin' someone else?

Me: How can I be sure you're not doing the same thing? Honestly, Roz, I trusted you. I gave you the benefit of the doubt, because you told me you loved me. I didn't need you to swear a blood oath or anything. Just a few words was all I needed. But you... It's not enough for you. I've given you my word; I've given you my diary. I've bent over backwards to earn your trust, and you won't give it to me. You want to destroy who I am. You want me to be someone I'm not. I can't seem to satisfy your impossibly high standards of trust. Frankly, I'm tired of trying.

Roznik: [stricken] Karie... ah don'... It's me, no' you. Ah need yuh. Ah _love_ yuh. Ain' dat enough?

Me: [sad] No, it isn't. Not when you use it as an excuse to hurt me. [deep breath] I don't want to hurt anymore. _I don't deserve it._ If the only way you can handle me involves tearing me down, then... I guess I'm done.

Roznik: [desperate] No. Yuh ain' done wit' meh. Please. Don' jus' walk away.

Me: Roz, you've made me want to _run_ away.

There were a few more things said, but I'm drained. I left Daznik there to pick up the pieces, and took one of the Laughing Skulls' ugly bastard ravagers back to the garrison. I didn't want to talk to anyone, and just made a beeline for my hut. I'm damn tired of crying my eyes out over Roznik, so this is the last day I'll do it willingly. Then I suppose I'll have to figure out what to do about Dralthar. I hope he's endlessly patient, because right now, I don't want a man in my personal space.


	200. Day 125: Say What You Will

I know what I told myself yesterday. I swear I had every intention of sticking to my guns and chilling out after the finger was extended and Roznik sent packing. I would've done it, too, if Dralthar hadn't shown up.

He asked if everything was all right. He didn't press for details or make assumptions of what might have gone down. Whether I chose him or Roznik in the end. He just wanted to know if I was okay.

My feet, I discovered, are too far away from my head to get the message. They took me straight to him, right into his arms, and made damn sure I got a full-on hug complete with big strong shoulder for crying on. Which I used.

It didn't end there. My arms are likewise little traitors, and wouldn't let go of him. How do I describe this? It was like... holding Dralthar had almost an attunement sense to it. Like I could tell from the way he breathed, the way he held me, the way he just pressed into me, that this was something he'd wanted for a really long time. A hurdle cleared, a goal reached, an achievement unlocked.

I couldn't catch my breath, and not because he was squeezing too hard. I had to hang on for awhile, just to make sure I could stand on my own when he let go. That was my excuse, anyway.

Me: I think... I need you to stay.

Dralthar: Not goin' nowhere.

Me: No. I mean... tonight. Here.

Dralthar: [pause] Here. In your bed.

Me: Yeah. [quickly] Just like this. That's all.

Dralthar: [nervous laugh] I think Zaggron'd have my head if...

Me: [titter] You bet he would.

Of course, the minute I show any signs of heading for the bunk, two wolves leap into it ahead of me and carve out their territory. Or fight over it, whichever. I had to shoo them off, and pointedly ignore the resentful glares. The standard-issue bunks are huge for little me, just right for an Orc, and maybe a little cramped for us both, but that just meant enforced spoonage. We settled in, with my back against his chest, and I think I melted into the mattress.

The thing about an Orc's body is that it's big and hot. If you like him, it's snuggly, too. I usually have the cold wall against my back, thanks to the girls, so by comparison I was toasty warm for once. After a day full of Roznik issues, I was worn out and drifted into dreamland really fast. Until I felt something weird.

Not gonna lie, I almost bolted out of bed. I thought it was a rat crawling across my face. Which is a mean as hell way to describe it, considering what it actually was. It was Dralthar's finger, lightly caressing my cheek. It took me a second to realize that the hut was completely silent, something almost unheard-of when Zaggron's around. Then I found out why.

Zaggron: [stern] Probably don't have to say it, but yuh better not be messin' around.

Dralthar: [amused grunt] Relax, old man.

Zaggron: [growl] Watch it. That one's special. You treat her right.

Dralthar: I intend to.

Zaggron: Mind yourself, though. Not all of us're open-minded. You parade around with a human on yer arm...

Dralthar: [provoking] You think I should back off? Is that it?

Zaggron: Nah, nah. 'Bout everyone knows yer... different. Got different ideas and such.

Dralthar: [chuckle]

Zaggron: Anybody but her... Yeah, I'd tell yuh to let it lie. Reckon she's proved herself enough, though. Folk won't challenge yuh too much.

Dralthar: Let'em.

Zaggron: [grunt] Gonna take on the Horde itself?

Dralthar: [stubborn] If I have to.

Zaggron: What if she wasn't one of us, eh? What if she was still with the Alliance?

Dralthar: I'd love her same as I do. It wouldn't change nothin'. [sigh] Just have to find someplace we could be together, is all.

Zaggron: [chuckle] All right.

The 'discussion' wound down, and pretty soon the violent animal torture that is Zaggron's snores commenced. But Dralthar didn't go back to sleep for awhile; not before I did, anyway. He just kept gently touching my face, my hair, my ears... I even felt his lips on my head at one point. Just softly kissing.

I woke up this morning way earlier than is usually acceptable, but didn't mind it so much. Dralthar had a time of it getting off the bed without waking me up or crushing me to death when he lost his balance and nearly flattened me. We had a good laugh that pretty much dismissed any 'morning after' awkwardness.

I kissed him. Briefly, and on the cheek. Little steps, I think, are better than giant leaps in matters of the heart.


	201. The Department of Redundancy Department Sends Its Field Rep to the Garrison on Day 125

Not ten minutes after being informed by Zaggron that our afternoon will be spent astride cranky rylaks for hours, a rylak swooped in to deposit another stray from Spires of Arak. I know this was a thing back in _Wrath of the Lich King_ expansion days, but come on. A forsaken death knight? _Really?_ A dead guy animated into undeath, then reanimated into _epic_ undeath? What the hell is _that_ about?

His name is Benjamin Gibb, so I was told, but I'll be damned if I'm talking to him. He has buried the needle on the creep-o-meter. Not even weird-ass Vivianne raises my hackles to this level. And rumor has it that he was rescued by Kuadanath from a bunch of ghosts trying to bury him 'alive.' Uh huh. Is that so?

Not gonna lie. He's the first death knight I've ever seen, and even from across the garrison, he freaks me the hell out. Forsaken, I've been around a bit. Very little, granted, but a bit. They tend to slouch and look like rigor mortis has set in, bending their spines and making them walk around with old man, blown-out knees kind of stiffness. Mister Gibb, on the other hand, isn't even close. I could see the same kind of sloughing flesh off the joints going on, but he stands straight up and completely still. I must've watched him standing there while Sergeant Grimjaw debriefed him on garrison protocols or whatever, for something like five minutes, because Grimjaw can talk your damn ear off if you let him get going. Gibb never moved. Not even nodding to acknowledge that he was being spoken to. He looked, quite literally, dead. When he followed Grimjaw around for the standard tour, he moved like a normal human, but gave the impression that if circumstances called for it, he'd be all up your ass in a heartbeat. None of this tired shuffling one has come to expect of your typical undead.

So now I'm tapping my foot impatiently while Zaggron rechecks our crap, because we're going to Axefall for a couple of days. I kind of don't want to be in the garrison with that guy right now, you know? He better keep his evil little mitts off my sort-of-boyfriend.


	202. Later on Day 125: No One Mentioned BIRDS

So. Spires of Arak. Why didn't anyone tell me that the 'Arak' part had to do with Arakkoa? While I'm relieved to know that our new neighbors down the road are super-friendly and love us all to pieces, it's still really freaky hanging out with a bunch of croaking Skeksis knock-offs.

Stationed here in Axefall is one very talkative Reshad, who hangs out with an odd little bird named Percy. Not kidding. Reshad is actually a pretty cool guy... bird... thingy. I'm fairly sure he's a he. Most likely.

When we got here, Gishka and her troop of eager young space cadets were out on a mission elsewhere, so me and Zaggron had to entertain ourselves. Guess what knocks it out of the park for old Zaggron? Rooting around in the forest, looking for anything flower-related that might have been missed by the great honking HUGE laser the other Arakkoa occasionally use to take pot-shots at their outcast brethren.

It seems that we barged in on a very heated domestic squabble in this region.

I'm not looking forward to our first trip out there, let me tell you. Sweet old thing Reshad has been targeted for assassination, and at least a couple of villages have been burned to cinders by that laser cannon. And did I mention a load of Kargath Bladefist's Orcs running around who evidently each cut an arm off so they can swap out fun and entertaining prosthetics, like swords, guns, shovels, and chainsaws? Okay, maybe just swords, but come on. It's a real party around here, let me tell you.

But I swear to god, I don't remember ever coming across flying Arakkoa in the game. Not once. Thank god, because staggering around on the ground, aggroing on your ass from a mile away, is plenty annoying enough without adding 'death from above' sort of tactics to the mix. Nor do I recall, in my many zipping forays through Outland, that they ever flew at any point in their history. As far as I know, they've always been hunch-backed bags of rep-grinding feathers. Chalk it up to alternate universe, weird timeline deviations, or something entirely missed by the game designers, but the 'normal' Arakkoa here (the ones I'm used to from Outland) used to fly, and were cursed to be just like us ground-dwellers. The ones who still fly are almost 100% snooty asshole, at least according to Reshad. Not in so many words, but I can extrapolate.

Which brings up the question of how I can communicate with this bird when I don't know Orcish or whatever squawky thing he speaks. Well, birds are mimics. That, and we're not the only ones in this area; the Alliance has a base as well. In fact, the one they're holed up in a couple miles away is the second attempt.

I've got to admit, regardless of how I feel about the Alliance most of the time, what happened down the road from us was really awful. One of our shadow hunters, Ukambe, told me what a mess it was. A freaking scourge fiend got in there and corrupted everyone into killing machines. It was a massacre from within, no Horde invasion necessary. Only now I'm finding out that our death knight addition was in THIS garrison getting buried in the graveyard by ghosts of THESE Alliance folk. What he was doing in there remains a mystery, but I'll just bet Sylvanas was involved. I do not trust that bitch, and I haven't even met her. It would not surprise me in the slightest if the Scourge asshole was sent from Undercity. Tell me you didn't pull the trigger on that shitbag, missy. I dare you.

Anyway, Zaggron feels strongly that I've lounged enough, and it's time to skip through the forest with our satchels and baskets. Off I go. I hope Gishka's back by the time Zaggron gets flower-picking out of his system for the day.


	203. First There Were Birds, Now There Are Cats, and Suddenly Love is in the Air - Evening of Day 125

The only possible explanation for why there are flying Arakkoa and highly aggressive Khajiit in the area is that 'our' timeline Orcs kicked every single ass in Draenor before they ran out of friends to play with and came to Azeroth.

Gishka came back with her team and a bipedal cat blinged out to the max with all kinds of trinkets and feathers - which earned him a sour chitter from Reshad. While the temptation exists to make 'Khajiit has wares if you have coin' comments to him, I'm restraining myself. His people are actually called Saberon, and there's a pretty large settlement of them in the southern region. His name is Leorajh, and until Gishka and friends ran across him, he was hiding in a cubby way up on the mountain not too far from here. She told me she had orders to 'check every hole,' so they did, and oh my gosh golly, they actually found something.

Here's a bit of trivia for the folks playing at home: Ironically, the 'check every hole' guy is Gornek, our 'dude in charge' here in Axefall. Someone mentioned he used to guide snot-nosed raw recruits around the Valley of Trials, getting their feet wet in service to the Horde. He is also Zaggron's secret sweetie. Oh sure, play coy all you want, old man. I saw those looks exchanged. It doesn't take a crash course in rocket science to figure it out.

Zaggron: [blush] Don't say nothin' 'bout it.

Me: Pfft. Like I would. [elbow nudge] He's cute. You've got good taste.

Zaggron: [muttering] Shaddap.

Me: [grin] Known him long?

Zaggron: Years. Since Draenor... _our_ Draenor. Nobody knows, so keep a lid on it, will yuh?

Me: [affronted] I wouldn't out a friend, Zaggron. I swear. [concerned] Is it really an issue? The two of you? Like, against the law or something?

Zaggron: [shakes head] Nah. It's just... You know. Not real common. Folks can get shitty. We've, uh... both lost mates. _Women_ mates. Both of us got a kid. [shrug] They wouldn't understand.

Me: [puts arm around shoulders] I don't want to poke my nose in where it doesn't belong...

Zaggron: [disbelieving grunt]

Me: [pointedly ignoring his disbelief] ... but maybe you two ought to sit the kids down and just... tell them. They might surprise you.

Zaggron: We've talked about it. Ain't likely to happen.

Me: I haven't known you long, Zaggron, but I can tell it's eating at you, having to keep something like this from your own kids.

Zaggron: _Kid._ Got a little girl. [grunting laugh] Not so little no more, I 'spose.

Me: Do you think she'd be mad at you about it?

Zaggron: [shrug] Maybe. Maybe not. Ain't seen her in years. She's off with the Earthen Ring folks, doin' some shit for them. Don't even know where she's at.

Me: Do you miss her?

Zaggron: [duh] Course I do.

Me: Can you get a message to her? Ask her to meet you... I don't know, in Orgrimmar or somewhere. Come on, Zaggron; she's your _daughter._

Zaggron: [stubborn] She's got her own life. Don't need me in it.

Me: Bullshit. You're her dad. Daughters always need their dads. It's a rule.

Zaggron: [shrewd] Yuh miss _your_ dad, then?

Me: [serious] [bordering on verklempt] I would do _anything_ to see my dad again. You write to her, or so help me, I will.

Zaggron: What about Gornek's boy, eh? He's a stubborn little shit. Thought the sun shined out his mother's ass. I walk in on that, take her place, and he'll gut me.

Me: [sigh] Yeah, kids can be pretty attached to a parent. Especially a lost one. But you know what? If it's been a really long time, maybe he's gotten past it. Maybe he's reached a point where he just wants to see his dad happy, and it doesn't matter who with anymore.

Zaggron: [shrug] Maybe.

And so here I go again, poking my nose in. I've retrieved my family counselor hat from the bin and it still fits. Zaggron's having a lengthy chat with his lover over a beer at the tavern, while Gishka takes in the beautiful night sky with Lugram.

Oh my god, her chosen one is so completely not like her! She's this dignified young woman of obviously refined taste - the kind you'd meet at a wine tasting or art gallery event - and Lugram is... Well, he's a soldier. Like, every other word out of his mouth is a curse word, he moves with a tough-guy swagger, and seems to have a permanent discoloration around his eyes and jaw implying that he spends a lot of time getting socked in the face. He also has scabby knuckles, further implying that he does a lot of socking. Yet when I look at the two of them together, it's like his hard-line face goes all 'she my bae' and he just smiles... It's very sweet.

Which suddenly reminds me that I haven't heard a peep out of Grogax in a long while. I hope everything's okay between him and Jinqies.


	204. Day 126: No Rest for the Wicked

I'm equal parts thrilled and nervous about the latest order we received from the garrison. We get a couple more hours of undergrowth scrounging, then it's back to home base to prep for a trip to Lunarfall. That being the Alliance garrison out in Shadowmoon Valley.

Part of my nervousness is that the last time I saw it, the whole region was a massive shit pit full of fel goo, ghostly pissed Arakkoa, snotty Illidari, and asshole demons. I'm not sure what to expect this time around.

Regardless, before we shove off, I'm totally taking that Gornek aside. Zaggron went to bed angry over something he won't talk about, and I'll just bet it's shitty boyfriend issues. This I will not tolerate. I will have them kissing and making up before I leave, or die trying.


	205. The Doctor is In, Later on Day 126

So Gornek isn't nearly as human-tolerant as Zaggron, I discovered quickly. Downright hostile, as a matter of fact. I had to tread very carefully, and approach him as a 'concerned friend of his lover's' or he probably would've punched me in the face. I must've been too busy to notice his 'what the fuck is THAT doing in my garrison' expression upon arrival.

Shared beers is a great way of soothing a savage beast, so I bought him a round in the tavern. Okay, Gishka bought it. Somehow, ever since I left the Alliance, I've been completely unable to acquire money. No idea why. I guess I've always been in situations and places where cash wasn't required. Kind of nice, because I remember how tough it was to build funds as a newbie player back in the day.

Anyway, it was like talking to a boulder at first. Gornek just sat there glowering at me for ten minutes. You'd think I was trying to muscle in on his territory or something.

Me: I couldn't help noticing that Zaggron was a little out of sorts after you two talked last night.

Gornek: [silent glare]

Me: [prompting] One might be inclined to think there was a disagreement?

Gornek: [silent glare]

Me: [soldiering on] Would it have anything to do with talking to your kids about something important to you both, maybe?

Gornek: [lip-curling hostility escalates]

Me: [sigh] You know, I care about Zaggron. I don't like to see him unhappy. If you two have been together for all these years, I have to assume you make him happy. But if you're angry with him about this, you should know it's _my_ fault. I brought it up and pushed him into talking to you about it. So if you're pissed, send it my way, not his.

Gornek: Keep yer fuckin' nose out of it, human.

Me: [pleasantly] So you _can_ talk! I was beginning to worry. Look, I'd love to mind my own business, _believe me_ , but you two have something that has endured through so many wars, I've lost count. Don't throw it away over something that's my fault. Patch things up with him. Please?

Gornek: [minimal thawing] Was just a... Maybe said some things... [glare] What's in it fer you?

Me: Well, I get a less despondent roommate out of the deal. There's that perk. But mostly, Zaggron will feel better. _You_ will feel better. In spite of your clear dislike of me, I can't help bundling you up in the overall Zaggron's Happiness package. I want to see you happy, too. So get over there and work it out before we head back to the garrison.

Gornek: Fuck off.

Me: [withering] Nice. You know, I'm trying like hell to see what Zaggron sees in you, what it is about you that he likes, but right now all I see is asshole. He and I are about to head into Alliance territory; did you know that? Do you think you might want to part ways without an unresolved fight between you?

Gornek: [a little more thawing] [stubborn] Ain't doin' a fuckin' thing fer _you._

Me: I wouldn't expect you to. If it'll make it easier, I'll just kind of wander over to that crazy Goblin selling fireworks and see if there's anything I can 'accidentally' set off in the middle of the Alliance garrison, then you can sneak over to Zaggron and maybe sort things out really quickly without me noticing. Sound like a plan?

I actually got a tiny little smile out of him. One of those 'oops I almost laughed' kind of things he quickly suppressed. I mean, really - who _doesn't_ think blowing shit up in an Alliance base is hilarious? Re-applying his fierce, I-hate-your-fucking-guts glare, he stomped out of the inn.

But the whole time we've been waiting on a couple of ryleks to free up, Zaggron has looked a lot more relaxed and happy. Mission accomplished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: To my complete surprise, it turns out that Gornek is the guy in Valley of Trials who gives you your very first quest as a new Orc player. Undoubtedly because you're a total dweeb at that level, he can't even be bothered to stand up. ;) However, as established several chapters ago, Karie has never rolled an Orc toon before, so she wouldn't recognize him. To my shame, neither did I, because who actually pays attention anymore when they've already created 75 new toons over the course of many years? ;)


	206. It's Not Like I'm Off to War or Anything: Day 126

I think it took about ten minutes to pry myself out of Dralthar's arms once I told him I'd be going to the Alliance base. Apparently there was no formal announcement, so he didn't find out until we landed at the garrison and I mentioned it.

He actually confronted Tuulani and jabbed a finger in her chest, thankfully well-protected by a priestly bubble, and told her he'll rip her head off if anything happens to me. Scared the crap out of the poor thing. I had to calm those sexy, rippling pects of his and reassure him that I wasn't going alone. Then he rounded on Zaggron and told him that a violent beheading was also in _his_ future if he didn't look after me.

And I'm like, _hello!_ Not completely helpless, here! Whoa, what a massive lie that is.

Tuulani promised this wasn't a trap, that she was under her commander's orders to treat honorably with us, and if he didn't get his big, green sausages out of her face, she'd unleash some pretty nasty Light on his ass. Or words to that effect.

Because it stunk too much like 'I'm the man and I'll do all the protecting around here,' a very familiar litany I have no desire to hear repeated, I took Dralthar aside and leveled with him. Ku wouldn't send us if there was any threat to our safety. Our visit is _not_ unannounced. _They're_ sending a handful of equally nervous gatherers at the same time, so if a hostage situation arises, we've got leverage, so _chill... the fuck... out._

He looked like a kid who's just gotten his hand slapped, kind of sheepish and embarrassed for losing his cool.

Dralthar: Sorry. I don't like this.

Me: That's kind of obvious.

Dralthar: You'll be outta Horde territory. What if somethin' happens?

Me: Shit could hit the fan here, too.

Dralthar: We don't even have a base in that region. Closest one is miles away...

Me: Dralthar! Seriously. Calm down. You didn't get this bent out of shape when I went to Axefall...

Dralthar: You were still in Horde hands! [getting a grip] I don't trust the Alliance. Not with you.

Me: I don't think there's much chance they'll try to take me back. That whole... _thing_ months ago kind of blew over. [grumbling] Believe me, there are plenty of folks in the Horde who are far more interesting than I am that they can kidnap.

Dralthar: [half smile] Ain't likely.

Me: Flatterer.

Dralthar: [serious] I know the Horde'll protect yuh. Like I would. If the commander was gonna be there too, I figure Sharis would hold up her end of the deal. Without Kuadanath...

Me: I've met her. She's okay. I didn't get a backstabbing vibe off her.

Dralthar: [scowl] Yuh met'er in _Razor Hill_. Before the siege.

Me: She was _commanded_ to be there. She wasn't one of those opportunistic little fucks who ran around killing our people for hot dogs and beer.

Dralthar: Why yuh gotta go at all? Can't Zaggron manage to pick a fuckin' flower without yuh?

Me: [amused] Now you're getting pouty.

Dralthar: [muttering] No'm not.

Me: Does it help that it won't just be the two of us? Trukk and Kroxxar are coming too. And apparently there's an exciting new fish native to their rivers that Rak'jin is keen to nail with a hammer.

Dralthar: [shrug] S'pose.

Me: We'll only be there for a couple of days.

Dralthar: [resigned nod] Yeah.

Me: [slightly sarcastic] I can go, then?

Dralthar: Yuh don't need my permission. Wasn't tryin' to... [sigh] I'm worried, is all.

Me: [relenting] I understand. I'm sorry I'm getting so defensive, but... I don't need a parent or a protector, Dralthar. I need a partner. Can you be that?

Dralthar: I can try. Won't be easy. It's not... not that I think yer weak, or can't look out for yourself. Ain't even that me bein' with you'll keep yuh safer than if I ain't around. I just don't wanna get a message that... somethin' happened.

Me: And you weren't able to stop it.

Dralthar: Yeah.

Me: The boys won't let anything happen to me.

Dralthar: I know they won't. Wouldn't last five minutes with me if they did.

I can't seem to muster the fury to put Dralthar on alert that I don't appreciate being considered a damsel in perpetual distress. His worries are totally understandable, but hopefully unjustified. Plus he looks completely adorable when he's sheepish and embarrassed. Extra allowance for cuteness, I guess.

What it comes down to is that I trust Kuadanath completely. Since I've gotten no debriefing from her about spying on the Alliance or swiping some piece of intelligence when no one's looking, I have to assume that Ku trusts and respects Sharis. So I do too.


	207. Day 127 Ushers in a HUGE Timeline WTF

We literally flew all night, only stopping at Vol'jin's Pride in Talador for a few hours to rest and switch rides. My unforgiving ass is extremely resentful today. Why we couldn't just rent a mage for the five seconds it takes to cast a portal and hold it open for us is beyond me. I guess mages are like the Eagles in all the Tolkien stories - sure, they're massively convenient transportation vehicles, but not when the plot would greatly benefit from them.

But I digress, as usual. We came swooping in shortly after the breakfast hour, and were greeted by Sharis and a handful of grim-faced guards. It was me, Zaggron, Rak'jin, Trukk, and Kroxxar, sort of standing in Tuulani's inadequately-sized shadow as she shook hands with Sharis and did the introductions. Sharis referred to me as 'the Defector,' but with none of the snide bitchiness of Cordana Felsong. She didn't do air quotes, but you could hear them. I could tell by the smile and wink that she considers the title to be grossly inappropriate to the point of amusing, so I guess she's listened more to Kuadanath's version of the story than SI:7's.

Oh yeah, there are a couple of SI:7 goons here, too. I recognized Bodrick Grey by face, if not by name. You never forget the face of the guy who broke your hand with a hammer. Either he catalogues every person he tortures so he can gloat over the memory afterwards, or I'm just that noteworthy, but he actually had the nerve to bow and say pleasantly, 'We've met. You're looking surprisingly well. How is Roznik?'

I came _this close_ to kicking him in the kiwis. I'm still seething. Sharis wasn't aware of our 'history,' but you better believe I'm telling her about it as soon as we get a minute alone. I don't expect the little snotbucket to receive an ass-kicking over it, but she ought to know what sort of assholes she has in her garrison.

What knocked me sideways, though, was the fact that there's a group of Shadowmoon clan Orcs exiled northeast of here, and their leader is one of Sharis's strays (so Ku isn't the only one who brings them home). We were introduced, and literally every Orc in my posse put a hand on a weapon and growled at her. She gave them the universal 'suck my ass' glare and stood her ground.

She's Rulkan, ex-mate of Ner'zhul. My brain just literally shut down. In our timeline, she died like... oh my god. _Ages_ ago. Kil'jaeden convinced Ner'zhul to be a massive, literally earth-shattering dick by pretending to be Rulkan's spirit. In this timeline, however, she's very much alive, but still in complete disagreement with how her husband manages his affairs.

It's more the Ner'zhul connection that had the boys foaming at the mouth, than Rulkan herself, so the awkward confrontation didn't result in even more awkward revelations. Easily passed off as 'your mate is a total dick; prove to me you're not the same' kind of thing, which is an apparently acceptable argument among Orcs.

As for Lunarfall itself, it's like a mini-Stormwind, but without the teeming masses and shit-covered streets. Whereas Frostwall is a mini-Orgrimmar, in terms of architecture. (Incidentally, this is not me favoring Horde over Alliance and looking at Orgrimmar through rose-tinted glasses * - there is literally no trash and crap in Orgrimmar's streets. Whether that's because the grunts will pound your face in for littering, or because the Horde races are just more environmentally conscientious, I'm not sure.**) The whole layout is just... different. I don't think I'll get the hang of it even if I spend a week here. The whole load of us are being housed in the great hall, which is up on the rise overlooking the front gates. I don't even know what the hell the buildings have in them, but there are quite a few. Zaggron and I were escorted to the herb garden first thing. The local flora we're going to be hunting down is called a Starflower, and it's gorgeous. Zaggron got all misty-eyed. The lake just outside the garrison is pretty well-stocked, so the fishing-guy-in-charge showed Rak'jin the sturgeons they've been breeding. He is equally excited about the fish he'll be casting lines for.

I'm expecting us to head out with our guides (and guards) after lunch. Trukk will be coming with me and Zaggron, while Kroxxar accompanies Rak'jin. I'm not sure if they're here to ease our minds about being 'defenseless' among Alliance soldiers, or to make themselves feel better. I may not be the most savvy person on the planet, but I'm getting no danger vibes here. The people we've met - SI:7 excluded - have been friendly and sincere. They're very much Sharis's people, likely hand-picked like Kuadanath's were. And like Ku, Sharis is embracing the same concept of 'we're in this together' that's keeping things civil between the factions.

And lunch is served. Gotta jet if I want to beat those hungry boys to the buffet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Yes it is. ;)
> 
> ** 'City age' is the culprit in my interpretation of how these cities are managed. Stormwind has been around for generations; it's so old it even has an "Old Town" section. Orgrimmar, on the other hand, hasn't even been around ten years at the time of WoW. More like 5-6. The paint's barely dry. I figure the residents are going to go another decade before they start getting lazy about how they keep house. ;)


	208. Laughing My Ass Off in the Wee Hours of Day 127

I can't sleep with something like this on my mind. Holy crap, I'm dying. So Zaggron, Trukk, and I went off to rustle the bushes and flush out a few starflowers. Our guides/guards were a mix of humans and Draenei.

For the record, Zaggron may talk a tough game, but you put him in a room with Draenei, and he's the very model of a polite gentleman. Most of the ones with us were from our timeline; there's no doubt in my mind that they gauged his age as 'just right' for having taken part in the genocide back home. They weren't openly hostile, but certainly cold. Likely under orders not to be rude. I think the only reason why Zaggron didn't apologize and grovel for forgiveness is because a) he's too proud for that, and b) there was no indication that a display of that kind would be warmly received. So the trip was a little on the awkward side. Trukk, on the other hand, is a bit young to have been involved directly, but he remembers the stories. He was equally subdued and polite.

Incidentally, this is not what's keeping me up tonight and making me burst into titters in my bunk.

Guess who's assigned to this garrison? None other than the Draenorgen! We got back, laden with plant material, and I saw the two of them sitting together at a table by the food truck in the main square, looking all goo-goo eyed at each other. Enough to make you barf, really. I was owed a private chat with Sharis anyway, so I tracked her down. Turns out, my experiences with Bodrick Grey and the Draenorgen are more closely related than I thought possible.

Sharis: [confused] 'Draenorgen'?

Me: Sorry. That's just what I took to calling them, since every time I see them, they're attached at the naughty parts.

Sharis: [eye roll] Light's mercy, I know who you mean. He is Akim; she's Eliza. They're SI:7 agents.

Me: [floored] SI:7? You're shitting me.

Sharis: Not at all.

Me: Is that why they've been following me all over Azeroth?

Sharis: Very likely. I suppose that, since you're no longer a person of interest, I can tell you. [sigh] You were marked upon arrival in Stormwind. The location of your appearance isn't an established anchor point for portal spells. For you to appear out of nowhere in that particular place... Questions were raised.

Me: [sour] Why weren't they raised with me? If someone had actually _talked_ to me...

Sharis: Alas, that is not how SI:7 operates. Perhaps if you had immediately engaged in obviously criminal behavior, you might have been confronted sooner. As it was, you appeared to be as human as anyone. You pursued work and lodgings in an honest manner. Akim alone was your shadow while you were in Stormwind, then you ventured forth into Goldshire, where Eliza is stationed. [deep sigh] He intended only to share his observations with her and then hand off the duty, but...

Me: Let me guess. Soaring violin music, moonstruck gazes, quivering loins...

Sharis: [smirk] In a nutshell. They managed to convince Mathias Shaw that their partnership was required to effectively monitor your activities, as you seemed to keep odd hours. So they maintained, at least. According to the report I read, you were observed having a liaison with a Troll employee of the Darkmoon Faire, and that, I'm afraid, put you on their 'suspicious party' watch list.

Me: Awesome. So no one in the Alliance has ever even entertained the thought of screwing a member of the Horde.

Sharis: [laugh] You would not believe the number of inter-faction romances I have witnessed or heard about. Many of us want peace with the Horde. We are sharing Azeroth and all it has to offer; it does not make sense to nurture petty squabbles over resources and territory, when we have shown on so many occasions a willingness to forge partnerships in its defense.

Me: Amen. I'd much rather see a world where Horde and Alliance arguments are settled over a game of Hearthstone or in a boxing ring, rather than in a full-scale battle, bulldozing everything in its path. [scowl] I saw what we both did in Pandaria. That shit was totally not cool.

Sharis: [nod] I was there. I did not agree with Admiral Taylor at the time, and now he... [verklempt]

Me: Are you okay?

Sharis: He commanded the post in Spires of Arak, the one not far from Axefall.

Me: Oh no.

Sharis: Your people discovered the disaster before we did, and fought to release his tortured spirit. Kuadanath's shadow hunter tried to help him find closure, to move on, but he seeks redemption for his part, though he was compelled by a dark force. We learned of it when his spirit appeared here, in Lunarfall.

Me: His spirit?

Sharis: Yes. You may see him now and then while you're here; he is restless. I keep him engaged in missions to help him atone, though I have assured him it isn't necessary. [sad smile] The dead can be very stubborn.

Me: Wow. I had no idea. Nobody said anything about that bit when I heard about the rest of it.

Sharis: I suspect the Horde is unaware that his spirit lingers. He was not one of theirs, after all. [shakes herself] But you asked about Akim and Eliza. I believe it was Eliza who observed your actions among the Blackrock Orcs encroaching on Northshire, in particular the apparent 'pay-offs' you received from the Orcs. It was assumed you were being paid to look the other way, until your diary was later confiscated. I'm afraid your true allegiance was revealed, and your actions took on a much more sinister light.

Me: [embarrassed] I guess I didn't do a very good job of... I honestly wasn't taking it seriously. I thought I was... I thought I was only going to be here for a short time, and then poof, back to my world.

Sharis: [blink] Your 'world'? You are not from Azeroth?

Me: [whoops] Um... No. But I'm from a place that knows it... pretty well.

Sharis: Oh! That explains so much! The gaps in the reports, the mysteries, the pieces that did not seem connected... You aren't _from_ here! [laughs] But you are not from Draenor, the only place we know of that has connected with Azeroth, with the exception of... [alarmed] Forgive me, but...

Me: I'm not with the Legion, I swear. Which... I suppose would be the first thing I'd say if I was. [frustrated] Crap. Hold on to your shorts, Sharis. This is gonna take awhile.

[insert lengthy, boring explanation of my origins, including the game concept, because what the hell - in for a penny, in for a pound]

Sharis: That is... not what I would've guessed.

Me: I don't think anyone could make up a story like that out of their ass.

Sharis: [slow smile] I will keep your history to myself. It amuses me to see Mathias Shaw flounder about.

Me: [laugh] You and me both, sister. Is he still trying to figure me out?

Sharis: Indeed. The mystery consumes him. [smirk]

Me: So... Akim and Eliza...

Sharis: Yes. Your incarceration was, as you know, short-lived. Kuadanath's rescue was tracked, and they were dispatched with all haste to Booty Bay. Because you were rescued and accompanied by members of the Horde, they were ordered to observe rather than apprehend.

Me: [smirk] I didn't notice too much 'observation,' so much as nether region exploration between them.

Sharis: [eye roll] Yes. They are a discipline problem. I must keep them engaged in missions - _separately_ \- in order to keep the peace. The complaints are nearly continuous - waking up in the middle of the night to their amorous activities, walking in on them during the day, seeing them together in the mine shaft or the herb garden...

Me: Oh my god, I was just in the garden today...

Sharis: Fortune smiled upon you, else you might've been witness to yet another embarrassing encounter. I'm sure you have seen your fair share.

Me: It's a relief to know they aren't doing it for my benefit alone.

Sharis: [laugh] Indeed not! I would say you brought them together, in a sense, but you are not the reason for the frequent, unabashed displays of their... affection. [embarrassed] I find it difficult to look either of them in the face at times.

Me: So... if I'm no longer a 'person of interest,' why are they still following me?

Sharis: They aren't, as far as I know. Once the bomb was dropped upon Theramore, all the agents were recalled and reassigned. There was no longer a valid excuse for following you, as you were not observed traveling within Alliance territory as one would expect of a spy.

Me: [uncomfortable] Um... actually, I was.

Sharis: [nod] Yes. Your activities were discovered after the fact, almost by accident. The Draenei you befriended - Nadezda - filed a report upon discovery of your identity.

Me: That sounds like her. She's a very honest person.

Sharis: She is. I believe it pained her to do so, but her vows and commitment to the Alliance are strong.

Me: [worried] Is she... is she mad at me, do you think? That whole situation was just... I hated like hell dragging her into it.

Sharis: Can you speak of your mission? SI:7 has not been able to determine your purpose in Stormwind or Pandaria. The only information they have is what Nadezda could divulge.

Me: Since the whole thing was cooked up by Garrosh, and he's no longer our Warchief, sure. We were supposed to find and assassinate Anduin Wrynn.

Sharis: [floored] Light's mercy.

Me: [nod] I tried like hell to think of a way to sabotage the mission, in spite of... That asshole held my family hostage so I'd follow through, and the guys I was with were STILL going to kill me when it was over! Okay, just the Goblin, but still.

Sharis: What possible good could've come from such an act?

Me: [grim] No good whatsoever. I had one of the guys convinced that it was wrong. Maybe when it came down to it, he might've helped me. As it turned out, we never got close enough to find out. Nadezda kind of blew our cover a little.

Sharis: [still reeling] She said she discovered the conspiracy by accident. The Orc held her at knifepoint, then slew the Goblin aiming to kill her. She has not identified the Orc by name, but... I'm told she seeks him.

Me: [surprised] Really? Um... what for?

Sharis: [amused] She has an interest in Orcs.

Me: Oh yeah. Yeah, she does.

Sharis: I suppose his actions must have intrigued her. After all, he clearly saved her life. I've heard she spent considerable time in the company of O'ros, then embarked upon a mission to locate this Orc.

Me: [sad] I don't think she'll find him. We were attuned, and... the connection was broken. That only happens when one of us dies.

Sharis: You were attuned?

Me: Not because we were married or something. It was for communication purposes on the mission. That's all.

Sharis: [frown] When did it break?

Me: I didn't even notice it until I was here.

Sharis: [thoughtful] I'm no mage myself, but my understanding is that attunement spells are quite fragile. Passage through certain portals - such as those connecting different worlds - has been known to break them.

Me: [hopeful] Really? So... he might be alive?

Sharis: He could be. I suspect Nadezda is determined enough to find him, if he is.

Me: Well, between you, me, and the wall, I'm thinking he'll be pretty damn glad to see her again, if you know what I mean.

Sharis: [sly grin] I wish them both well.

I can totally see why Kuadanath gets along so well with Sharis. She's good people. I don't often run across folks from the Alliance who aren't in a shitty mood about my 'defection,' like somehow I've insulted them personally with my choices. I usually respond with 'tough noogies' and 'stop your QQing,' forgetting that some of them don't suck. I have to admit that while I've been here in Lunarfall, I haven't felt like getting shitty with anyone. Except maybe Bodrick Grey, but that's because my hand still aches when it rains. He can completely, totally suck my ass. As for the Draenorgen - Akim and Eliza - I'm sorry, I'm laughing too hard to muster any anger with them. A guard just wandered past my door, heading down the hall outside, bitching under his breath about having to turn in for the night after his shift, and if he catches that damned goat inside the frickin' dog one more time...

I hope Sharis is right, and Harag is still alive. I'm stoked that Nadezda is looking for him. If anyone can flush a secretive, reluctant Orc out of hiding, it's her.


	209. Saved by the Nelf, Day 128

Thank god for Sharis. She intercepted Bodrick Grey this morning, and apparently thwarted him last night, to spare me being interrogated by that son of a bitch again. I'm glad she has sufficient street cred in her own garrison to keep that guy's nose out of my ass. However, my rescue comes at a price: she'll have to tell him some of what we discussed yesterday to satisfy his boss.

She assured me the only thing they want to know is about the mission in Pandaria, to sort of 'close the books' on that unresolved case Nadezda opened up. That should shut them the hell up. So I said sure, go for it. Like there isn't already a massive hate campaign against Garrosh going on; what's one more little tidbit going to do? If it means Varian Wrynn will finally call off his goon squad and leave me the hell alone, I'm all for it.

As an aside, Rak'jin is teasing the crap out of Kroxxar this morning. The boys all bunked together in one room, while I basked in single occupant luxury next door. Evidently, something he ate didn't agree with him, and Kroxxar spent half the night in the outhouse. Poor thing.


	210. Day 128: The Most Poorly-Handled Meeting I've Ever Been In, Bar None

I'm still reeling from the near-miss. What the hell is wrong with me?

Me and the boys did our gathering thing, then came back to Lunarfall. We're supposed to head back to Frostwall in the morning, so Zaggron and I got started preparing our flowers for transport, Rak'jin packed his fish and roe in ice chests, and our bodyguards stood around looking extremely bored. Then Sharis came over and asked me to come with her to the main hall. She seemed a little out of sorts, kind of nervous, so I was immediately on alert. Not alert enough, as it turned out. I followed her in, then immediately crapped my drawers. Figuratively speaking.

Varian and Anduin Wrynn were waiting for me. They were sitting at one end of the table, their backs to the fireplace there, and standing behind them was that incredible tool, Mathias Shaw, along with Bodrick Grey. Also about six soldiers bristling with unconcealed weaponry, because I'm just that threatening when unarmed and in my dirty work clothes.

Sharis made a largely useless attempt at casual introductions, like everyone in the room didn't already know each other. Varian had a hostile expression on his face, one probably reserved for criminals and vagrants, while Anduin looked pleasant. He even smiled. The SI:7 guys, though. Jesus, you'd think I was the one who piloted the airship over Theramore and killed thousands of people. Eat my ass, guys. EAT IT.

Anyway, Sharis and I sat down, and the meeting commenced.

Shaw: [sarcastic] Still an unapologetic traitor, I see.

Me: [cool] And you're still a delusional half-wit. No change there.

Shaw: [hostile] How dare you...

Varian: [raises kingly hand of shut the fuck up] You were commanded to murder my son.

Me: [apologetic glance at Anduin] Yes. I was.

Varian: I'm also told that you attempted to sabotage the mission.

Me: That's correct.

Varian: Why?

Me: [wary glance at Sharis]

Sharis: [confused shrug]

Me: Honestly?

Varian: [nod]

Shaw: [muttering] For once...

Varian: [slightly more peremptory shut the fuck up hand raising]

Me: Several reasons. You want the whole list?

Varian: [prompting] Please.

Me: Reason number one - Anduin's a kid. [aside] Sorry, but you are. What are you now, fifteen? Sixteen?

Anduin: [slightly defensive] Sixteen. But I am not a 'kid' by any stretch...

Me: To me, you are. I'm... older than I look. While I'm not in favor of killing as a general rule, I really don't agree with it when kids are involved.

Varian: Yet you 'agreed with it' when ordered to do so by Hellscream.

Me: [sour] What choice did I have? I literally didn't even know what we were supposed to be doing until the team was assembled and we were en route to Stormwind. I had no idea where the other guys on the team stood on the matter; I had to tread carefully. If I did _anything_ that looked slightly... I don't know, _mutinous,_ I'd be dead and there'd be no one standing in the way of them getting to your son and taking him out.

Varian: I see. Your other reasons, then?

Me: Honesty, right? You're a prick. A colossally huge prick. Every asinine, provocative thing Garrosh does, you're right behind him doing something even worse. One of these days, one of you will wind up dead, and I doubt it'll be him. Then the next one in line to the throne is Anduin here. [to Anduin] Your approach is peaceful coexistence. I'll bet you'd sit down with the Horde leader - whoever it may be - and try to work out a mutually beneficial deal to end the bloodshed, end the strife, end the wars. Right?

Anduin: I would, yes.

Varian: [pinching nose-bridge, oncoming-migraine-style] You don't think I have a similar goal?

Me: [withering] Real funny. Pull the other one, it plays a song. You're just like Garrosh. He wants to conquer and control. He wants the Alliance out of what he thinks is his backyard. Don't tell me you don't want the same thing for the Alliance.

Varian: [seething] You don't have any idea what I want. Your 'warchief' almost murdered my son with his own hands!

Me: And you want his head. Take a number; there's a long line ahead of you. Will you stop at _his_ head, though? Have you reached out to Vol'jin _even once_ to make peace? Like you refused to do with Thrall for some completely unfathomable reason? For _years?_ Christ, you guys worked together to bring Garrosh down; did you chat either one of them up when you had the chance? Did that shared experience have any impact on you at all? Or do you still want to see every Horde head on a pike lining the walls of Stormwind?

Varian: [snide] You are close in the new Warchief's confidence; have you asked him the same questions?

Me: [smirk] I don't work for _you,_ Varian. And I don't spend my days hanging out in Grommash Hold, advising Vol'jin on how to deal with your ass. He's got plenty of folks assigned to that duty. I think you overestimate my role.

Varian: I don't think I do. What are you doing _here_ , if not to spy on Alliance operations?

Me: I'm here to pick flowers. _That's all_.

Sharis: As you know, your majesty, Kuadanath and I maintain peaceful relations. I have sent a team to Frostwall for the same purpose - fetching flora we need, and fish we cannot find here. I did not specifically request Karie's presence; she was sent...

Varian: As a spy?

Me: [impatient] Get over yourself. I'm Zaggron's assistant. I go with him where ever flowers need picking. It's you and your little posse back there that have this unreasonable obsession with nabbing me when I'm just picking fucking flowers!

Shaw: [furious] You were _not_ picking flowers! You were gathering intelligence prior to the bombing! You were watching troop movements and assessing resistance! You were...

Me: [floored] Where the fuck do you get your ideas, numb nuts? We were looking for _kingsblood_ \- the _flower,_ not _his_! - for making _beer!_

Shaw: Your partner told a different story.

Me: [wrong-footed][hasty rallying] How hard did you have to hit him to get that confession? Was that before or after you ripped out his tusk? [losing cool] I heard every blow, every scream, every time he begged you to fucking stop because _he didn't know anything_! He barely knew his own _name_ when we got out of there! No confession is trustworthy when you get it that way. Any _idiot_ knows that!

Anduin: [shocked] Mathias... Is this true?

Shaw: [awkward] Of course not, your majesty. The traitorous bitch is lying.

Me: [unending fury] Why don't you ask Fentulk about it, then? See what he has to say about SI:7 methods of interrogation, _if_ he even wants to talk to someone from the Alliance _ever again_. [to Varian] All this shit rolls straight up hill into your throne room, Varian. Don't think for a minute your hands are clean, just because you didn't beat the fuck out of us yourself.

Varian: Is this why you turned your back on the Alliance? Because of these... alleged assaults?

Me: [cold] 'Alleged,' my god damned ass. I was _never_ Alliance material, Varian. I was never 'yours.' I belong with the Horde; that's my family, my people, _my home_. I don't even care enough about the Alliance to undermine it. I just want it to leave me the fuck alone. [sarcastic] Can you do that? Can you contain your possessive territorialism for five seconds, and leave me in peace?

Varian: You sought to protect my son. I think you care more than you admit.

Me: Don't flatter yourself. Anduin's death would've led to a war of vengeance without end. Any inroad to peace would have been destroyed with no hope of ever being revived. I did it to save the _Horde,_ Varian, as much as to save Anduin. To me, the risk was worth it.

Varian: I see. Shaw, I am satisfied. You may close the case against Karie.

Me: About fucking time.

Shaw: [pointedly] We are not done here. I want assurance that you won't be used against us again.

Me: [eye roll] Talk to the hand, asshole; it's got a special message for you. The _last_ place I want to be is anywhere _near_ you or your stooges, or doing something that could get me killed. I just want peace. Peace within the Horde, and peace between the Horde and the Alliance. Vol'jin is well aware of this, believe me. [to Varian] Let's face it, if we were all friends, you and I wouldn't be having this particular conversation - I wouldn't have _any reason_ to breathe the same air as you - and that would suit me fine.

Varian: It would suit me as well.

Anduin: [valiant attempt at civility] Thank you, Karie. For trying to save me. I understand you did so at great risk to yourself and your family.

Me: [simmering down] Anytime, kid. Anytime.

Man, I hope Shaw gets his walking papers, or at least a vigorous and extensive investigation into his methods, out of this. And a gratuitous anal probe. Somehow, I don't think Anduin would let his dad just sweep it under the rug.

I debriefed the boys about the meeting, which they had no idea was going on. Apparently, when Varian and Anduin visit the garrison, it's pretty hush-hush. Zaggron then brought up something I hadn't thought of at all, and that's the question of what Dralthar will say when he finds out how close to getting arrested by the Alliance I was. And me just swearing and pointing fingers and getting all shitty with the frickin' _king..._ Oh my god, what a dumbass. Sharis may be able to curb the Bodrick dog in her garrison, but she wouldn't be able to protect me from an angry king. Son of a bitch. I guess I've been sitting on some real anger issues with the Alliance for a long time, and Varian Wrynn pushed the release button. Really gotta put a password-protected shield on that thing.


	211. Everyone Has to Get in a Final Word

So I take that back about the Wrynn family visits being massive secrets. After our little 'come to Jesus' meeting, the two of them did the rounds, bolstering any potentially flagging enthusiasm with encouraging hand shakes and manly shoulder punches. My gang tried to look small and unnoticed, which is really hard for three Orcs who stand over six feet tall and command upwards of three hundred pounds of raw muscle each. Even with Rala and Rak'jin on the low end of maybe two hundred pounds soaking wet, they still uncurl at around seven and a half feet tall. You don't hide that shit real easy. Maybe Varian gave us a wide berth, but Anduin didn't. He came right up to us and shook every hand with the kind of grave seriousness you would expect of someone a hell of a lot older and already wearing a crown.

And I mean also someone with an eye toward establishing good relations with the opposite faction, so obviously not a clone of his dad. Which was what he wanted to impress upon all of us, in a not-so-subtle way.

Anduin: Thank you all for agreeing to set aside our differences and engage in this peaceful exchange. I understand it must have been difficult for some of you.

Trukk: [grunt] [reluctant handshake] Ain't easy. We don't see eye tuh eye most times.

Anduin: You have the bearing of a soldier. Where were you stationed, before coming here?

Trukk: [guarded] Thrallmar.

Anduin: It must have been a shock, seeing a jungle where you once saw desert.

Trukk: Yeah.

Anduin: And you? Your location?

Kroxxar: [suspicious] Stonebreaker.

Anduin: [surprised] You were both in Outland when the portal changed?

Trukk: Well... not really. [uncomfortable] Was on leave on Azeroth, actually. When it happened.

Anduin: Truly? You must have been worried about your return to duty. No one knew what to make of it.

Trukk: [relaxing] Yeah. Weren't sure if I'd be able to get back. Report in, and such.

Anduin: Were you also on leave?

Kroxxar: [noncommittal nod]

Anduin: I understand your specialty is the flora of Azeroth. How does it differ here on Draenor?

Zaggron: [uncomfortable] Actually... kind of... knew it pretty well when I was growin' up. Back when... You know. Before.

Anduin: I see. I confess, you don't look old enough to have come from Draenor. Before.

Zaggron: [tightly] [maybe a little resentful] I am.

Anduin: [sincere] I assure you, there will never be a day when such measures are taken again. Perhaps it is years too late, but you - _all_ your people - have my apologies for what was done.

Zaggron: [somewhat humbled] Well... s'pose we kind of... provoked it. A bit.

Anduin: [concede] Perhaps. Regardless, I'm pleased that we can stand together to achieve common goals, in spite of our history. It gives me hope for the future.

Zaggron: [awkward] Same here.

Anduin: [smile] I never thought I'd shake hands with a Troll. [offers handshake]

Rala: [reluctant] [slowly accepts handshake]

Anduin: [also shakes Rak'jin's hand] It must be a test of your fortitude, the harsh cold of Frostfire Ridge. I expect you both long for warmer climes?

Rak'jin: [stiff] We go where duh Warchief tell us. Weathuh don' mattuh.

Rala: Don' even notice.

Anduin: [grin] Of course you don't. A true warrior endures. [to me] I'm glad we could finally meet, Karie.

Me: So am I.

Anduin: I hope your relationship with the Alliance improves with time. My father is stubborn, and he can be... a bit reluctant to let go of certain... ideas, but I believe he is mellowing.

Me: I suspect you have a lot to do with that.

Anduin: [sigh] I do my best.

Me: [sincere] Don't stop. Seriously, Anduin. Azeroth would be a better place if there was peace. I know the Horde and the Alliance don't handle stress the same way, but Azeroth is home to us both. We will fight to the death to protect it, just like you will. We should be doing it together.

Anduin: [nod] We should. If it were within my power to do so, I would see to it that peaceful accord is struck. Our world is so frequently under attack...

Me: Hmph. You got that right.

Anduin: [smile] Though we often disagree, we are stronger as one.

Me: You'll make a great king some day.

Anduin: [wry] I hope so. [worried glance at dad across the garrison] Though I hope that day isn't soon.

Meanwhile, I'm quietly thinking 'make it REAL soon,' but politely not saying anything. That moron _is_ his dad, after all.

Anyway, now that the awkward and embarrassing conversation is over, we'll be hitting the mess hall for one last blow-out with the Alliance before heading back home in the morning. I've been so preoccupied with all the exciting meetings that I forgot to make note of the fact that this Shadowmoon Valley is comfortably temperate, forested here and there with rolling grassy hillsides, assloads of elekk and talbuk roaming freely, and not that first puddle of green goo anywhere. Damn near a paradise. So good job, Ner'zhul, you humongous shitbag. Way to fuck up your home town. No wonder your wife divorced you in both timelines, before _and_ after death.


	212. Resolving Some Internal Conflicts on Day 129

It's a whole bunch of no fun, clinging to a griffon before sunrise when you're hung over. It's especially no fun having to be the front-loaded drunk rest with a snoring Orc draped on your back for hours. Sharis could only spare three rides for us, so we doubled up. I got Kroxxar, who promptly passed out and spent the whole trip to Vol'jin's Pride drooling on my shirt. Then he frickin' mumbled something like 'bek' in my ear, and fondled my boobs. He got _such_ a hard elbow to the gut. When we landed, he bolted like a scared rabbit for the inn.

I'm too tired to give him an earful about it. At least he didn't puke on me. I'm chalking it up to recovery from near-coma-inducing Dwarvish beer, at this point. Good lord, was there a party last night! Either the garrison folks were just that glad to see the backs of our heads this morning, or we gave such a good impression that they knocked it out of the park for our 'farewell' dinner.

Third possibility being that they will pull any excuse out of the Nether to drink massive quantities of beer and dance on tables.

I actually had a good time. I talked, and drank heavily, with several Alliance folks, and didn't feel weird about it. Have I reached a point where I'm so comfortable with the Horde, that I don't care what anyone thinks about it anymore? And maybe I'm coming off as less defensive about my choice? Have I been a huge bitch all this time, and didn't even realize it? Probably. Maybe getting the opportunity to tell off Varian Wrynn was more liberating than I thought.


	213. Day 130: When the BF Loses His Cool...

I'm sure Rala thought my little meeting with Varian Wrynn was the most delicious gossip he's ever had the pleasure to divulge, but his little reveal sent Dralthar into a massive freak-out. Nice. Thanks, mon.

Basically, we swooped into the garrison and commenced with the unloading. Dralthar was all smiles and hugs, so glad I made it back alive. Then Rala chimes in with, 'Yuh woman almos' got 'rested by duh king hisself!' No lead-up, no opportunity to ease into the news or soften it up any. Just blam, there it is. _Thanks, mon._

I swear, Dralthar looked like he was having a seizure. You'd think I was inches away when a boulder landed at random in the middle of the Alliance garrison. I did my level best to explain the scenario, though I couldn't really make 'and I called Varian Wrynn a prick to his face twice' sound innocent. Should've called him a douchebag; he wouldn't have known what that was.

Regardless, Dralthar lost it and yelled at me.

Dralthar: What were yuh fuckin' thinkin'? They could've hauled yer ass away!

Me: Well... yeah, I guess they could've...

Dralthar: And what was that Sharis bitch doin' the whole time, eh? Just lettin' yuh dig yer grave?

Me: [indignant] She laid some covering fire! She wasn't just sitting there while I... embarrassed myself.

Dralthar: What about the rest of them bastards yuh went with? What were they doin'?

Me: [annoyed] Packing our shit. They didn't even know it was happening. Look, you need to climb down off it, Dralthar. I'm not a child...

Dralthar: [furious] And this ain't a fuckin' game! Yuh piss off a fucker like Wrynn, yuh pay hard! [frustrated pacing] Worse, yuh spouted off when there weren't nobody 'round tuh get yer back.

Me: [defensive] Sharis was there! You don't think she had my back?

Dralthar: [sarcastic] Yeah, sure. _She_ dragged yuh in there. She's one of _them_. Make her choose 'tween you and her king, don't think for a second yer gonna win.

Me: What is your fucking problem? I'm fine. I'm _here_. What's more, the case against me is closed. I'm not ever going to hear from those bozos again. I can't believe you're blowing a major artery over this.

Dralthar: [cool about to be lost in 3...] Yuh might not've been 'fine' or 'here'! Yuh might've been dragged back tuh Stormwind and thrown in the stockade!

Me: But I wasn't! It all turned out okay...

Dralthar: [...2...] Could'uh killed yuh where yuh stood! Couple'uh SI:7 fucks standin' there, and you just _had_ to taunt'em too, didn't yuh?

Me: That Bodrick bastard broke my hand with a hammer! Shaw yanked out Roz's tusk! They had it coming! Why are you...?

Dralthar: [...1...] Zaggron weren't there, Trukk and Kroxxar weren't there. Anyone who could've gotten yuh outta the fuckin' mess you were makin'...

Me: Chill your ass out! I don't need a god damn army backing me up everywhere I go!

Dralthar: [meltdown] I weren't there, neither! You were outta my hands, outta Horde hands, and I could'uh lost yuh! I'd fuckin' go down fightin' by yer side, but I weren't there! [crash] Nobody was there. Nobody.

Me: [calming] Hey. I'm sorry. I don't... feel really good about what I said, either. But... it needed to be said.

Dralthar: [worn out] Don't do it no more. If yuh gotta draw blood, don't... don't do it without me.

Me: Sometimes a gun isn't necessary to make a point, Dralthar. I had an attack of opportunity, and I took it.

Dralthar: Could'uh got yerself killed.

Me: It's the risk we all take, every day.

Dralthar: [subdued] I got no right. I know.

Me: You have every right. You were worried. I'm kind of... [sigh] a loose cannon, sometimes.

Dralthar: [amused grunt] Yeah. 'Spose. But... I ain't yer mate. I don't have no say.

Me: You're a concerned friend. Um... a concerned more-than-friend. I'll... I'll try to be less, um... put-my-head-in-a-noose-and-kick-the-chair-out in the future, okay? And I don't mind if you blow up sometimes. [smile] [punch shoulder] Makes me think you care.

Dralthar: I _do_ care. [pause] [sheepish] I love yuh.

Me: [Han Solo moment] I know.

Dralthar: [bows head] [embarrassed]

Me: Hey. When I'm sure of how I feel, I'll tell you. I'm just not ready yet.

Dralthar: [encouraged] Take yer time. I want yuh to be sure.

Me: So do I.

I have to say, as couple fighting goes, Dralthar is a pretty good adversary. He may blow up like a bomb, but then he simmers right back down. I don't feel like I came out on the 'winning' side, so much as learned a huge lesson. Couple of them, actually. One, I may not be 'officially' in a serious relationship with Dralthar, but I'm taking what's growing between us _very_ seriously. So is he. I know what it's like to feel helpless while the one you care about is off doing dangerous stuff; my dad was a cop, after all. Every time he went out that door, me and mom worried like crazy until he came back. Until that day he didn't.

Lesson number two, I wonder if some of this has to do with Dralthar's family back in the camps, and what happened to them. He won't talk about it, but I have to wonder if he had his back turned when their hiding place got torched, and he blames himself for not 'being there.' Not protecting them. I can't let myself forget that.


	214. Time Flies in Every Direction When You're Having Fun: Later on Day 130

I'm a little torn at the moment. On the one hand, I found out where Grogax has gotten to, but on the other, I'm about to lose my boyfriend.

One of the grunts told me where Grogax disappeared to: Nagrand. No sooner do we have one outpost settled in, than we're breaking ground on another one. Not gonna lie, this is a biggie for me. Nagrand was always my favorite zone in Outland. Like, all the rest of them can go straight to hell, for all I care. When I'm questing through that horrendous slog, I live for the moment where Garadar is my next stop, and grieve when I have to move on. And now I'll get to see it in its pristine form.

Okay, I will when Kuadanath makes the call that we can't live another moment without its flowers.

Then there's Dralthar. He's packing his things and shipping out in the morning for the new place because they've got a stable there, and need someone to work with the prairie wolves they're trying to tame. He learned about his reassignment before I got back; worrying about missing me in transit was heavy on his mind, then Rala had a 'sharing' moment and he lost his shit. So he's been kind of hovering around me all afternoon.

It's nice, actually. I like having him within reach. I like holding his hand, even if mine sort of disappears in his. I don't think I've ever been with a man who let me just hold his hand, you know? Most of the men I've been with, not here but back home, automatically assumed that, because I'm in no way virginal, that must mean I'm okay with them groping and pawing and climbing all over me. Being able to just chill out with him, move at a slow pace, get to know him first... This is the best thing ever. I swear to god, I've picked up his scent, for crying out loud. I know what he smells like, and I like it. I just want to stick my nose in his personal space and breathe him in. Is that weird?

I love his laugh - kind of shy sometimes, a bit mischievous, a little cheeky. And the way he sometimes winks when he smiles. And when he's serious, his brow kind of bunches like a little kid trying really hard to do math.

Tomorrow, I'll be seeing him off at the flightmaster. I think I just might give him a goodbye kiss. A real one, not the on-the-cheek thing. I think about it sometimes, and wonder if it'll be good and hot, or just feel like I'm kissing the brother I don't have.


	215. Orcs Don't Do Kissing Booths for a Reason: Day 131

In a quite possibly vain attempt at skirting my sadness with trivial bullshit, let's discuss Orcs and kissing. I have had the pleasure - dubious, in one case - of having an Orc all up in my grill on three occasions. It didn't occur to me until after number three, when Zaggron gave me the most WTF look on record - which is saying something, given how long we've been working together - that something as simple and straightforward as a kiss might be weird for them.

Let's review:

Orc #1 - Kurtok the Slayer. _Not a kisser._ I didn't really expect him to be, honestly. To me, kissing is something intimate between lovers who actually have some measure of affection between them. Mr. Grab and Fuck wasn't interested in a long-term thing. Neither was I. So his avoidance of face-mashing wasn't particularly noteworthy for me at the time.

Orc #2 - Fentulk. Had to teach him. I chalked it up to semi-virginal interactions with the ladies, and maybe not having much experience in the kissing arena. I amended that shortfall because he was a really nice guy otherwise. One of those guys who, if circumstances had been different, I might've held on to him for longer. Let's just say he was a quick study, and reached exalted status without having to do a lengthy rep grind. Earned the tabard on the second day. And he liked it. That's what's important.

Orc #3 - Dralthar. He learned to kiss ages ago from a human, and hasn't forgotten. He also has the reflexes of the Flash - my knees buckled so fast, I almost went down. He literally had to hold me up so I wouldn't dissolve into a puddle on the ground. So not a bro-kiss _at all_.

Zaggron dutifully informed me, after I'd gotten done crying my eyes out and over-dramatically cursing Kuadanath for sending my bae to another planet, that Orcs don't smooch. It's not a 'thing.' So why is it not a thing for Orcs?

Shockingly [/sarcasm], the tusks have a lot to do with it. Even though the game gives Orcs _waaaaay_ taller tusks than they actually have - like twice as tall, at least - they're still mega sharp and angle slightly forward. They are fully intended to be used as weapons, whereas I have no idea what the hell the purpose of Troll tusks is, to this day. Also, the ladies have the same size tusks as the boys, unlike how they're shown in the game with their dainty little girly tusks. So if you imagine two people trying to nail lips between tusks... That is not easily managed. I can see all kinds of awkward twisting to get the tusks out of each others' way, puckering really big to bridge that gap. It's actually kind of funny, when you think about it.

Why is it easier, and a 'thing,' for Trolls? To begin with, their heads are much thinner. You can slip a Troll face in between the tusks relatively easily. Unlike the males, the females have the little girly tusks like the game implies, so that's a big help. It also further illustrates the difference between the sexes. Kind of like how male birds tend to have the brighter plumage and have to do all kinds of bizarre dances and whatnot to get a girl bird to fuck them. Same sort of thing.

But I digress, as usual. Basically, Orcs don't kiss. So I asked what they did get up to, to show affection. You'd think I'd just asked Zaggron to explain the menstrual cycle. He got all embarrassed and awkward, wouldn't look me in the eyes, and stammered out the following rubrik of Orc mating practices:

Stage 1: Pre-courtship hunt behavior involves displays of strength and battle prowess. Pretty much like bird dances, only with axes. It also doesn't matter which side is trying to attract the other; males and females enter this contest on equal footing. Generally speaking, there is no physical intimacy at this point, other than fluttering eyelashes and shy glances. My invitation for Dralthar to share my bed, even without sex, was coming really close to crossing the line for this first stage, but Zaggron figured I'm human, so whatevs. Maybe the rules can loosen up a little.

Stage 2: The prospective mate is selected, and the courtship hunt is on. Some poor, unsuspecting animal is targeted, and the lovers nail it with extreme prejudice. The idea's already a little uncomfortable for pacifistic me, then you add the 'typical courtship activities' of raw organ consumption and bloody body painting, and I almost hurled. Then, tummies full of heart meat and bodies slick with blood, the lovers consummate their new union with a rambunctious, and probably loud, mating on the skinned pelt of their kill. Under the stars where the ancestors and anyone else out for an evening stroll can see them, if possible.

Stage 3: With all the preliminary steps accomplished, the lovers go before the clan chieftain and are declared a mated couple in front of the rest of the clan. Commence with 'normal' intimacies.

'Normal' intimaces being things like head butting - not how he put it; it's more of a gentle bump - and wrestling. Not kidding. Granted, this kind of wrestling wouldn't make it onto mainstream television. Probably wouldn't even be on late night Skin-emax, either. In a nutshell, the one who comes out on top, gets to ride the other one to the finish line, unless there's a battle of wills going on and then it can get kind of 'spirited.' I guessed by Zaggron's extreme blushing that he speaks from experience here. Having met Gornek, I can totally see there being a load of rough-housing involved.

So now I'm a little nervous. Okay, way nervous. I'm not the rough and tumble sort, generally speaking. Kurtok doesn't count, even if things did get kind of wild. Okay once; not something you want to face every day, if you know what I mean. I keep telling myself that Dralthar has revealed prior relationships with human women, so he's not entering into this one completely blind or ignorant. He knows we're way smaller, possibly more fragile in the infrastructure department, and hands down, no competition for him in a wrestling match. I don't even have to debate that. He outweighs me by at least 175 pounds; my only hope would be a foot to the kiwis, which would be kind of counterproductive to the original purpose.

I wonder if this is what Zaggron meant about Dralthar being 'different'? Having a thing for human women and doing the kissing thing. Seems plausible. I suppose I'll find out. Ku is expected to wander back this-a-way sometime today, and I've put myself on her schedule for a chat. I'll try not to chew her ass about Dralthar's departure - she probably didn't know this was going on, she's been so busy.


	216. I Must Be Wearing a Sign, Later on Day 131

Apparently, my doings are still making the front pages of every Horde newspaper, no matter what world publishes them. I asked Kuadanath why she sent Dralthar away, because from my perspective, he's the exact opposite of a toxic relationship that needs an intervention. Was it a discipline issue? Was he not shoveling shit fast enough to meet quota? Did a wolf bite someone and he got blamed for it? What the hell? She actually laughed, one of those deep-in-the-chest sort of Tauren laughs.

Kuadanath: No, he was not sent for disciplinary reasons. He has a gift, a way with wolves, and it is needed in Nagrand.

Me: [pouty] He also has kind of a 'way' with me.

Kuadanath: I'm well aware of his 'way.' I'm truly happy for you; he's a much better match.

Me: You knew?

Kuadanath: [duh] Not much escapes my notice when I'm here. And when I'm not, Sergeant Grimjaw keeps me informed.

Me: [jaw drop] _Grimjaw's_ been keeping tabs on my love life?

Kuadanath: [laughs] Not as such. Among his duties is maintaining order. [reluctant] I'm afraid he's had to counsel a few... detractors, with regards to your presence. He watches you closely to be certain you are able to carry on without being bullied.

Me: Detractors.

Kuadanath: Yes. only a few.

Me: Not that I think the whole world should love me, but...

Kuadanath: They are under orders to keep their distance. If they disobey, they will be punished. Rest assured, I consider your contributions here much more valuable than theirs; they can be exchanged with other soldiers on other bases, if the need arises.

Me: [humbled] Oh. Well... I'm glad. That I'm some kind of help, that is.

Kuadanath: You are. In spite of the recent events at Lunarfall - yes, I heard - I'm told that relations with the Alliance are improving. That my troops were able to engage in a civil celebration with Sharis's, and come away merely drunk and not broken in pieces... It is encouraging.

Me: [scoffing] That wasn't all me. You and Sharis get along just fine. That's got more to do with it than anything I could manage.

Kuadanath: Your presence eased tensions. Five of our people braved the trip with you; five who have never set foot in an Alliance hold without drawing a weapon. They placed their faith in you to lead them, and you did so admirably.

Me: I didn't, though. It was Tuulani who...

Kuadanath: [shakes head] They don't trust her in the least. She chose to represent the Alliance; there are many who consider her a spy, even though she comes from here, and has never known a time when the Horde as we know it made war on her people. You, however, have never professed a love for, or alignment with, the Alliance. Most have come to accept you as Horde. [smile] You are also gaining acceptance as a mate to Dralthar, whenever that may happen.

Me: [warm fuzzies] Wow. You know, I haven't really thought too deeply about what the rest of the Horde would think of me and Dralthar, any more than I did about me and Roznik. But for some reason, it's more important this time around. I guess I don't want to piss off the family.

Kuadanath: [chuckle] Trolls are a different breed entirely. While they, and the Tauren, are considered part of the Horde, it cannot be denied that the core of the faction rests upon the Orcs' shoulders. They founded it, they have kept it alive, they have defended it against all opposition. Gain their acceptance, and you are truly Horde.

Me: [worried] Have I?

Kuadanath: [smile] I would say yes. Eitrigg likes you. I'm told that High Overlord Saurfang himself would like to meet you.

Me: [blinking] Saurfang? Seriously? When is this happening?

Kuadanath: Soon.

I have to confess, I hope to crap it _is_ soon, because I teared up every time I ever ran Icecrown Citadel and had to kill his son. I just might lose it if I meet him in person. But really, High Overlord Saurfang. Wow. He's got almost as much street cred as Thrall, in my book.


	217. Morning Mail Call Brings Warm Fuzzies, Day 132

I'm never at the main hall when the mail arrives, mostly because it comes before the sun has had a chance to shake off the chill and resign itself to another day's pointless attempt to melt the snow off the roofs. I'm usually still cocooned in my blankets. Last time I got mail, I wasn't very happy with it, so it's not an event I attend on a regular basis.

Today was different. Dralthar sent me a note. Zaggron had to deliver it; he's always Johnny-on-the-spot with the mail since he gets regular letters from Gornek. I think I've read this about thirty seven times.

_Karie, my heart,_

_I want you here. You're in my thoughts all the time. Last night, I closed my eyes and remembered what it felt like to hold you close. How warm you were. The scent of your hair. I miss you. Don't wait too long. Make that old man come here for the arrowblooms. Talbuk are all over. They got thick fur. Real soft. I took down a few, and I'm working on a rug. Got plans for that rug, when you come. Keep seeing you on it in my mind; want to really see you there. Want to lay next to you on it, so I'm making it big. For both of us._

_Your heart's hunter, Dralthar_

Yeah, I've got some ideas about that rug, too. Ku's gone again, so I don't know when we'll be mobilizing for flowers. Zaggron's on the job, though. I put a bug in his ear about how badly we need these arrowblooms. Like, everyone in the garrison is suddenly really hot for them, so we'd better pack our crap, you know? I think he suspects an ulterior motive, but I don't care, so long as we end up in Nagrand.


	218. Later on Day 132: Competitive Letter-Writing Event Begins

Dralthar's letter got my heart fluttering so much, I decided to one-up him with a response. Make _his_ heart flutter, and maybe inspire some other reactions as well.

_My darling Dralthar,_

_I've been sad ever since you left, but your letter cheered me up. I think of that night, too, and your body so close, your hands touching me. I want to share that rug with you, under the stars, skin to skin. I want to feel every inch of you. I've told Zaggron to get busy planning our next trip. It had better be soon._

_Missing you too, Karie_

I could have gotten much more graphic. It's like, once he walked away - or flew away - my body just woke up. Like all this time, it was just sitting there going, 'eh, I'll worry about it tomorrow. He's not going anywhere.' Now all of a sudden, there _is_ no tomorrow (without a flightmaster getting involved) and the ol' libido sat straight up and cried foul.

Yes, I do think of that night with him, but I also run through the hot tub party pretty often. You soak an Orc's underthings through, and suddenly there's full disclosure about his endowments. Maybe Roz is right; maybe I _can't_ resist a dick. Or maybe Dralthar just turns me on so much, I can't resist _him._ I don't sit here and daydream about Mulverick's gorgeous body, or speculate on Gorsol's package - which is impressive, I assure you. My thoughts are filled with Dralthar. My daydreams are only about him. I have fucked that man a hundred different ways in my head. Hunting with him makes me nervous, but anticipating the post-hunt mating dance raises my blood pressure. Knowing he loves me, that he wants to start our relationship 'by the book,' according to the traditions of his people and not just half-ass it or skip the boring bits... It gives this whole thing with him a higher level of importance, a deeper meaning, a sense of permanence. I love being with him, I love laughing with him, I love sharing my life with him, and hearing all about his. But I also want very badly to make love with him. And then talk with him some more.

If only I didn't have this fear that the same thing will happen with him that happened with Roznik, because I don't think my heart can take another arena event. Not expecting it to happen made me vulnerable twice; I don't want the third time to be the charm.


	219. Day 133: The Randy BF Pulls Some Strings

I'm laughing so hard right now. Dralthar apparently got my response this morning, and has called in some serious favors. Kuadanath couldn't keep a straight face, either, and that's saying something of an otherwise super-serious Tauren. According to her, he gave her such a shimmery anime eye look when he asked that she couldn't say no. Not how she put it, but her imitation sure looked like it.

The only person not dying of gut cramps is Zaggron, who now has to make room for the arrowblooms we're going to Nagrand tomorrow to gather! Which also means I have to scrounge the salvage yard for crates so we can make more flower boxes.

What makes this whole thing even more hilarious, and also gets me all fired up with excitement, is that Dralthar made the case for having me added as a permanent member of the 'staff' at Wor'var. I won't be digging up flowers, though. I'll be fishing up fat sleepers. I love the name of the fish down there. Fat sleeper. That was my sideline profession back home.

The whole 'gang' is coming as well, at least for the initial deal. Zaggron, Rak'jin, Rala, Kroxxar, and Trukk, the happy-go-lucky hunting party on the lookout for sweet little flowers and lazy-ass fish. But when they head back to the garrison, I'll be staying behind. I'm too excited about seeing Dralthar to miss the guys yet; that'll come later, I'm sure.


	220. Lazy Design Team Totally Muffed It, Later on Day 133

In a world where a wand wave is the answer to pretty much every genetics question that comes up, the reality of tossing Orc and Draenei chromosomes into a blender and punching 'puree' just walked into the garrison. I sort of recall Lantresor of the Blade from way back; he was the only 'friendly' in an Ogre-infested ruin out east of the PvP arena. One of those guys who, once you were done with his questline, you just sort of waved courteously to every time you blew through, farming beads for rep. I dimly recall that he was an outcast due to his 'awkward family issues,' but you totally couldn't tell he had a Draenei parent due to lazy-ass game designers avoiding the effort to make a unique character model that wasn't an end boss. Maybe he was paler than your average Mag'har, but other than that, nothing that stood out and screamed, I'M HALF DRAENEI. He could've easily followed a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy and gotten away with it.

However, in the 'real' Draenor, you fire up that blender, and you're going to see a mish-mash of racial traits fighting for dominance and pretty much having to make grudging compromises. To begin with, he's got Draenei eyes. Solid, shiny blue. Then he's a really strange-ass shade of light greyish brown with a sort of vague bluish tint. Very vague, almost like a lenticular image, or opalescent, when you shift your perspective a bit. Near as I can tell, given that he's wearing a blademaster's half-robe (you cannot look at this guy and call it a skirt - he'd probably run you through), he has 'normal' Orc legs. At least, he walks like he does. In amongst his long black locks, you can see the sort of stunted fleshy tendrils of a Draenei. He doesn't bling them out, though; he probably hopes his hair is thick enough to hide them most of the time. The kicker, though, and something his robe can't hide because he probably gave up trying years ago, is the tail. It's not near as long as your average Draenei's, but I would say it's over a foot long. Give or take. Not that I'm taking measurements; he has that look about him that, if one more person asks about his god damn tail, he's going medieval on their ass.

Face-wise, he's still sporting the hefty tusks of an Orc, which has probably saved him a lot of grief among the Burning Blade... though not all of it, or he'd still be with them. Based on some code of honor I couldn't really grasp, Kuadanath had to fight a load of asshats on his behalf, and when the lead asshat cheated, Lantresor dove in to help, and got exiled for his pains. Good riddance to them, that's what I say.

I'm debating exercising my grossly inadequate grasp of Orcish to ask about his parents, because somehow I think that would be the most rude thing imaginable. But I'm literally _dying_ here! Were they actually lovers, or was violence/coercion/Gul'dan involved? Not that this Lantresor's origins would automatically reveal _our_ Lantresor's origins, but it's something I've wondered about. Without the Legion goading a race war, did the Orcs and Draenei occasionally hook up? I want to believe they did. I want to believe that the only reason why Orcs and Draenei here aren't joining forces is because the influence of Horde and Alliance has kind of 'separated' them politically. At least according to Kuadanath, when the two sides join forces against a common enemy, there's no knee-jerk snottiness going on. It's like, 'Oh, you're here too? Great to see you again! How's the family?' If it's _our_ fault that the two groups aren't currently hanging out together, we should be ashamed of ourselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Yeah, I know Lantresor of the Blade isn't 'obviously' half-Draenei in Warlords, either, but I still say that's lazy designer shit right there. Did the same thing with Garona, who has never shown an ounce of Draenei influence in her design. Even though her frickin' Uncle Maraad is leading the Alliance efforts, thank-you-very-much.


	221. Nabbed by the Bae on Day 134

The flight to Nagrand was relatively uneventful, if you don't count the unexpected WTF that is the Zangar Sea. I was anticipating a marshland with towering mushrooms, but apparently when you remove 98% of a planet, the oceans are the first thing to go. How in the hell Outland survives with so little water, I have no idea.

Regardless, we swooped over a mountain ridge, and there was the Throne of the Elements, only vaguely like I remember it. Skysong Lake was there, but the spot where I expected to see Garadar is completely empty. I had a minor freak-out and got lost for a second, then the rylak banked eastward, and we finally landed in Wor'var.

I still had one foot in a stirrup when Dralthar grabbed me from behind. He threw his arms around my waist in a bear hug and nuzzled the back of my neck with a beast-like growl that made my loins quiver. I had to twist around to face him, and I couldn't help myself. Nailed him straight on the mouth with a huge kiss. Right in front of everyone. Suck it, folks - he's my bae.

After the preliminary greetings were exchanged, I found that here is where Thrall has been hiding all this time. To my complete surprise, Aggra is also here. She got a massive hug too. I asked why she was there, and she said Thrall asked her to come because his mom gave him a bunch of shit about leaving her at home. "Family sticks together in times of war," and stuff like that. And even if your mom doesn't know she's your mom, you do what your mom tells you.

It's a little late in the day to venture out into the deep wilds for those elusive arrowblooms, so Rak'jin is going to teach me how to fish this evening. There's a sizable lake nearby, and a pier for little fishing boats. There is also a load of peons shuffling about or napping here and there. The foreman is a guy named Thazz'ril, and he's pretty free with a cudgel on their asses to get them back to work.

If it's the last thing I do, I'm getting that guy a boot-a-rang so he doesn't have to walk so far to mete out punishments to lazy peons. That was my absolute favorite daily ever on Netherwing Ledge. I would kill to have that thing again.

Anyway, it looks like the inn here is booked solid with my team stacked to the rafters on hammocks. Dralthar has a shelter one step up from a standard army-issue tent, but 'tradition' prevents us from sharing it until we kill something together. Not wanting it to be taken the wrong way by Dralthar, I asked Zaggron if this sort of thing is still required for couples who just wanna, you know, have a little somethin'-somethin' for funzies.

Zaggron: [snort - Orc thing] Shit like that ain't a big deal. Yuh just wanna have a little fun, do it. Nobody'd say a thing.

Me: Good to know.

Zaggron: Wouldn't advise it fer you, though.

Me: Oh?

Zaggron: Yer on the path with Dralthar. Maybe yuh ain't gone through yer hunt yet, but... it's comin'. Everybody knows that, so...

Me: I'm only asking out of curiosity, Zaggron. It just seems a little formal, and not something that fits in with casual hookups.

Zaggron: [relaxes] All right, then. Yeah, folks what don't want a lastin' thing'll just... hook up, I guess.

Me: Knock boots for a night?

Zaggron: Yeah. Or a couple'uh nights. Depends.

Me: Do some of these boot-knocking events ever wind up... serious?

Zaggron: S'pose some of'em do, yeah.

Me: But otherwise, this tradition is pretty universal, huh?

Zaggron: Well... no, not no more. I heard the Mag'har tossed it aside some years ago.

Me: [surprised] Really?

Zaggron: Ain't sure why, exactly, but they got this new thing where yuh take yer intended mate up to one of them floatin' islands. They call it an Asking. The mate says yeah, and yuh... um...

Me: Mate?

Zaggron: [blush] Yeah, yuh mate up there. Some of the clans got other traditions too. Ain't sure of'em all. But most of'em don't do the hunt no more. Game is scarce since the sunderin'.

Me: Yeah, I imagine so.

Even though it was getting close to dusk when I flew in, I could see the landscape of Nagrand pretty well, and the possible origins of the floating islands in our Nagrand came to light. The way the ridges and plateaus are shaped, it looks like pieces of the land must have crumbled when the world fell apart, and whatever forces keep the remains of Draenor from dissolving entirely also manage to keep what's left afloat. Whatever magic is behind it, there's no denying that Nagrand, from either timeline, is a beautiful place. The lush grasslands, the graceful trees, the valleys and ridges, the rivers... I want to explore all of it.

Right now, the only place I can explore is the mess hall, so I'd better grab Dralthar and find out if this chef likes us better than the guy back at the garrison does.


	222. Inns Should Have Bouncers: Day 135

I didn't get much sleep last night, and not because a hammock doesn't provide enough space for canine snugglers. Zugzug and Soka were both displeased with that development. No, what kept me up was Zaggron's snoring. Yes, I'm so used to it by now, it barely registers. Rala's hut is right next to ours back at the garrison, so he's gone deaf to it, too. And Rak'jin may be in another hut clear across the pond, but he can still hear it. Kroxxar, Trukk, and Grogax, though...

Basically, I had to step in or those three would've tipped the poor old man out of his hammock and rolled him down to the lake. I introduced them to wadded up cotton ear plugs, and that calmed them down for a while. Then I couldn't get back to sleep for at least an hour, for christ's sake.

So I'm a little bleary-eyed over breakfast this morning. Grogax is fine; he was out on a patrol or something when we got here yesterday, and came back late, so he's not happy about his new roommate keeping him up when he's exhausted. I asked him if he'd heard from Jinqies, and he said he had, but was 'too nervous' to read it. Would I 'sneak a peek' for him and let him know if everything's okay? Yes, he's adorably cute when he's asking for my help, but I have got to tell him I know he can't read, and then teach him how. It's been weeks since I saw him last, and that means poor Jinqies is sitting there thinking he's dead.

Maybe after we get back. The boys are saddling up our wolves and Zaggron's telling me to stop stuffing my face and get a move on. Those arrowblooms ain't gonna pick themselves.


	223. Day 136: The Way Home is Revealed... Sort Of

I woke up about an hour ago, surrounded by the Alliance. Last time I was in an Alliance base was under way better circumstances, and for completely different reasons.

I can't seem to get warm, and I'm still shaking. We went pretty far afield for those damned arrowblooms, none of which made it back with us. I think the Draenei priest has healed me twenty times and it's just not enough. Healing closes physical wounds; it doesn't make you forget how you got them.

We got wiped out. Almost all of us, anyway. It turns out Rala barely survived, but not me. I died. Like, literally _died._ Axe in the chest, then the long tunnel of light, kind of dead. Before I lost my grip on the living world, I saw Trukk go down, then Kroxxar. Zaggron wasn't far behind. Even without an axe splitting my sternum, my heart was aching with grief for them.

What happened was that we were trotting along this road, keeping an eye out for flowers, angry clefthoof, pissed talbuk, and marauding ogres. Completely missed the six Warsong riders bearing down on us. Thank god for Trukk and Kroxxar; veterans that they are, they gathered their shit and made a stand really fast while us softies from the herb garden clustered in the middle. The wolves we were riding jumped right into the fray. Zaggron and Rala fought like crazy, trying to protect me in the center of the maelstrom. My gun got hot, I was firing so much. They had a shaman with them, too, and he was throwing chain heals as fast as Trukk was. So I aimed for him, because that's what you do, right? You take out the healer first. He didn't think it was funny, and threw an axe at me. I wasn't quick enough to dodge it.

I've never been in so much pain. I could feel myself convulsing as I lay there, and I just knew it was the end. I felt some chilly healing spells hitting me before Trukk went down too, but it was too little too late. Before I knew it, I saw the light.

It's nothing like releasing to a graveyard in the game. The pain just ended like a switch was turned off, and I was floating through a tunnel of light, with an even brighter light ahead. I remember feeling sad, helpless, angry, disappointed... All kinds of things, but not comforted or relieved. I had things to do, dammit. A world full of adventure. A host of friends. A man to love. Then the light sort of resolved into shapes, and eventually I realized I was looking at myself. Not me bleeding out on the ground in Nagrand, but me sitting in a chair in front of my computer. Frozen stiff, like I was looking at a three dimensional still photograph. Hand still on the mouse. WoW on the screen, immobile.

I've been here for over four months; you'd think there would be people hovering over my body, trying to shake me awake. You'd think I'd be slumped over the keyboard, or sitting in a huge puddle of piss. _Something._ But it looked like someone hit the pause button on my world, just waiting for me to come back and unpause it.

Except... I was alone there. All alone. My friends too wrapped up in their kids to hang out anymore. My mom in another city, getting back out there and dating again, and feeling too guilty about it to share her new boyfriend adventures with her baby girl. A job I hate with day-in, day-out bullshit reminders that if form AB37 isn't filed in Drawer 10 by end of day, the world as we know it will cease to be. I just stared at my rigid body, afraid to merge into it. What if I was only coming back so I could die there alone, in my own world? Or worse, go back to the routine of my old life?

Then I felt a pull. Just a gentle tug, like a toddler politely asking for attention. I could've resisted it; they were calling me back where I don't belong. No one is powerful enough to overcome the spiritual alignment that keeps me from going where Azeroth people go when they die. So I had to choose. Go back to Azeroth and live, or go home and exist. Maybe.

I chose to live.

In the end, we were lucky. We got nailed near the Alliance base, and because Sharis and Kuadanath have this buddy thing going on, they sent a troop to help us. All of us, except Rala, had to be pulled back from the dead. They're laid up in bunks around me, with Draenei and Human priests doing their healing thing. The whole room is just bathed in light.

Zaggron came back to life before I did, and has been worrying himself into a state waiting on me to join them. In that way of all men who would rather not get all mushy and emotional in front of their enemies, he grunted a shaky 'about time you woke up' and said we'll be going back to Wor'var as soon as Kroxxar is fit to travel. I can see Trukk sitting up in his bunk with his face in his hands. Like somehow the whole wipe was his fault. Amusingly, Rala, that randy Troll, is already spry enough to flirt with the nurses.

I want to see Dralthar. I think it's time to revisit the courtship discussion. He's a big reason why I grabbed that priest's hand, metaphorically, and came back here. Not the only reason, but a big one.


	224. Completely Unexpected Development on Day 136

I swear to god, I saw that woman at Lunarfall when we visited, but I never would've guessed that anything was going on. By the looks of things, it didn't get started in Lunarfall, either.

Okay, I'm sitting here in a bunk in the med tent at Telaari Station, and this woman whose name I will _kill_ to learn, just threw herself on Kroxxar. Damn near flattened the poor bastard. She's totally covering his face with kisses. The priests are standing around in a WTF fog, sort of fluttering helplessly. Only one has shown enough bravery and shit-gathering acumen to politely pluck at the woman's shirt to divert her attention.

Nope. Not happening.

Normally, I practice discretion in situations like this, but it came from so far out in left field, I'm just staring at them with my mouth hanging open. The frickin' _Draenorgen_ going full throttle in the bunk next to me wouldn't freak me out half as much. I shot a look at Zaggron to see if he knew anything, and he looks like he's just had a stroke. Rala's hookup attempt with a Draenei priest was interrupted with his own 'who farted' expression. The only person who doesn't seem surprised is Trukk. In fact, he's over there smiling!

So those boys have some 'splainin' to do as soon as we get out of here. But holy crap, she's on him like white on rice over there! Not like screwing or anything, but hugging, kissing, crying... And he's hanging on for dear life, too. What the _hell_ is going on?


	225. Day 137: "Voodoo Shuffle" Has Been Replaced with "Dickbag Maneuver" as the New Troll Racial Trait

A message informing the post of our immediate arrival - so don't shoot the griffons outta the sky, if you don't mind - preceded us, so there was quite a reception on the ground when we landed. However, I wasn't three seconds into a crushing relieved boyfriend hug when Rala decided it was time to fuck Kroxxar in the ass in front of everyone. I should've recognized the hostile glares shot across the bow as we mounted up in Telaari Station. So instead of soothing Dralthar's shattered nerves and pursuing the subject I really wanted to cover with him, I had to rally to Kroxxar's side and save him from a lynching first.

Seriously. Not even joking about this.

Rala: [shove] Yuh fuckin' _traituh_! Why yuh come back wit' us, mon? Stay wit' yuh little whore!

Kroxxar: [flaring up] She ain't a whore! And I ain't a traitor!

Zaggron: What the fuck is the matter with you, boy? How long has that shit been goin' on?

Kroxxar: [defensive] Ain't nothin' wrong... Nothin' the matter... Fuck off, all'uh yuh! It ain't yer business!

Thazz'ril: [wields peon-goading blackjack] Break it up! What's going on?

Rala: [points] Dat bastuhd be fuckin' a human bitch 'n' passin' infuhmation tuh d'Alliance!

Kroxxar: I ain't done a fuckin' thing! Never said _nothin'_ to'er! Didn't do _nothin' wrong_!

Me: Hey, hey, hey! Settle the hell down! So what if he has a human girlfriend? How is that different from Dralthar and me?

Zaggron: [dismissive] You're one of us; it's different.

Me: [verklempt] [Sally Field Oscar moment]

Zaggron: [points] This little pustule's fuckin' around with a human slut who ain't...

Kroxxar: [rolling up sleeves] Stop callin'er names! She ain't a slut _or_ a whore! We ain't even... Just shut the fuck up!

Rala: [sneer] How much yuh tell'er, mon? She feedin' what yuh say back to'er king?

Me: [rallying] He said he isn't unloading state secrets on her, so back off!

Rala: Yuh keep outta dis, Karie. A mon talk when he layin' wit' his woman. Evvuhbody know dat.

Me: [sarcasm] Seriously?

Zaggron: [grim nod] Yuh don't even know what yer sayin', then next thing yuh know...

Me: [eye roll] Oh my god. Will you listen to yourselves? Are you seriously telling me that a key component of a male ejaculation is secret-sharing? _Really?_ You guys are all like, 'oh yeah, baby, yeah, that's it, uh uh uh, I'm gonna come, ah shit, _yeah,_ Vol'jin's massing troops in the Blasted Lands for a major push to take Nethergarde Keep in a week's time... FUCK YEEEEEAAAAAHHH!'

All: [stunned silence]

Me: See how ridiculous that sounds? If that's the case, I should have full knowledge of every military strategy and plan on the books for the Blackrock Orcs, because I spent a whole WEEK getting pounded by their commander in Elwynn Forest! Well damn, I feel like I failed as a woman; all he was able to manage was _fucking and sleeping_!

Dralthar: [explosive laughter]

Kroxxar: [deeply mortified]

Trukk: [grave] Sorry, Krox. I know yuh didn't want nobody to know, but I gotta say somethin'. Look, it ain't... like that. They been seein' each other for years. They ain't done a thing against the factions, either one.

Zaggron: [floored] You _knew?_ And you didn't say nothin'?

Trukk: [uncomfortable] He said not to. And I don't blame him, when this kinda shit goes down. It ain't his fault. Shit just happens, sometimes.

Me: You should all be ashamed of yourselves. You've known Kroxxar for a long time; when has he _ever_ shown that first sign of being a traitor? What intelligence leak has _ever_ happened to make you suspect for a _second_ that any _one_ of you might be a traitor?

Thazz'ril: Of course, _you're_ defending him. I've seen you scribbling on parchments; who's to say you're not reporting back to Stormwind every day?

Dralthar: [offensive lineman chest bump] I do. Yuh got anything _else_ yuh wanna say?

Me: [snotty] If you must know, I keep a diary. And you can bet there'll be some major scribbling going on later. [hairy eyeball] You're all getting a mention, and it won't be pretty.

Things kind of wound down, but since Thazz'ril's in charge until Kuadanath cuts loose from whatever mission she's in the middle of, Kroxxar's being held in confinement 'for his own safety.' Yeah, right. I could just scream - and quite possibly die of curiosity. I want so badly to know about this affair of his; does that make me a bad person? Or just a busy-body?

In any case, after the dust settled and it was just me and Dralthar, he grabbed me for another hug and just held on. Then he took me down to the pond, and we sat on the pier dangling our feet in the water. We held hands and talked.

Me: How did you find out?

Dralthar: Commander at Telaari Station sent a message. Said... some of our folks was... was hit on the road nearby. They collected the b-... the bodies.

Me: [lean close] That was kind of a shitty way of putting it.

Dralthar: [shaky] Knew it was you. Just knew it. [rubs eyes]

Me: [helpless] I'm sorry.

Dralthar: Happens, sometimes. Someone's gotta... gotta call yuh back fast, or yer lost. Yuh just... go. Pull's strong. Can't be denied.

Me: Has it happened to you?

Dralthar: [nod] Once. In Mulgore. Glad they... they yanked yuh back.

Me: [uncomfortable] It wasn't so much a yank as... someone politely clearing their throat. I could've resisted. [verklempt] I don't belong here, Dralthar.

Dralthar: Yuh wouldn't be here if it weren't supposed to be that way. Spirits don't work like that.

Me: I... I could've gone home. I was there, sort of. Saw myself... sitting there... [losing it]

Dralthar: [pulls me close] You, uh... yuh got the choice? Which way to go?

Me: [nod] Maybe what I saw made me hesitate just long enough. I felt the pull, and came back here.

Dralthar: Yuh see yer family there?

Me: [shake head] Just me. My... my body. Still playing the game. Like time had stopped there.

Dralthar: So... yuh might've gone there and...

Me: [nod] I don't want to die, Dralthar. Not again.

Dralthar: Don't blame yuh. I don't either. Even if... [falter]

Me: Even if what?

Dralthar: Saw'em. My parents. Their spirits, anyway. Ain't ready to face'em, I guess.

Me: Why not? They're your _parents._

Dralthar: They... they died when we was enemies. Your people and mine. Don't know how it works, exactly, but... maybe they still think like that. [deep breath] [confession time] I like human women. Always have. Probably cause of Milly. The girl I grew up with. Yuh look so small and... and frail. Like I gotta be real careful with yuh. Can't be a... a brute or... or monster round yuh. [embarrassed] Kind of an excuse... a reason to... be quiet and soft. For once.

Me: [amusing vision of Dralthar defending bunnies] We're not all that fragile, though.

Dralthar: [chuckle] True. It's why I can't resist yuh, I guess. Lookin' like yuh need protectin', provin' every minute that yuh don't. [swallow] [real shaky] I don't wanna lose yuh again. Even for a minute.

Me: _[seriously_ verklempt] I don't want to be lost.

Dralthar: Hunt with me.

Me: Yeah. I think it's time.

So tomorrow is the big day. We're going after a clefthoof, just the two of us, because it's serious time now.


	226. Greeting the Dawn on Day 139

I was too nervous to write yesterday morning before Dralthar picked me up at the inn, and I haven't had an opportunity until now, when the sun is just starting to rise. The rays are sneaking through the gaps of the blanket he hung over the entrance to this little cave, so every now and then, a breeze flutters the blanket and a shaft of light shines on his naked body.

He's beautiful. I can't decide if I want to watch him sleep, and just enjoy the view, or run my hands over him from top to bottom. He made me feel adored last night. It started out kind of slow and a little uncertain. Maybe a little bit of, 'If I really let go, I might break you' going on with him. But need trumped caution really fast. Just as it was getting really hot, with clothes getting tossed left and right, and as if I wasn't already desperate for him, he said two words in a growling whisper that set me off: _Ride me._

I swear, it took _hours_ to satisfy the last few weeks of wanting him. We christened his new talbuk skin rug several times. I just couldn't get enough of him.

Right now, I'm trying to sort through some worries that creeped into my head during the night. Not while we were in the middle of things; my head was out to lunch while my body got its rocks off. What worries me is probably silly and unimportant, but it nags. Have I known him long enough? How long is 'long enough' anyway? Did I agree to the hunt because of the death experience, and not because I'm really ready? Because this is the Orcish equivalent of marriage here. It's not a casual dating experience.

But we work so well together. Being with him just feels... right. When we were hunting that huge god damned clefthoof, almost literally the size of the frickin' barracks in the garrison, it was like our minds were one mind. He just had to gesture or give me a look, and I knew what to do, where to go. We flanked it and sent our pets out. My incredibly poor control over Zugzug seemed a non-issue, almost like he spared some of his brainwaves to keep her focused. Either that or she was just following Tiktak's lead.

Yes, his pet's name is Tiktak. It's a big black scorpion and gives me the willies. I would've thought he'd have a wolf pet, since Ku said he's got a way with them, but...

Oh my god, he's the lightest sleeper. The stylus scratches woke him up; he just asked if I'm describing our glorious hunt, our epic night of passion, or his hot green ass. 'All of the above, stud.'

Now he's chuckling to himself, he thinks he's so clever. I can't seem to find those worries anymore.

Oh, and I'm no more savvy about Horde military plans than I was yesterday, in spite of the _frequent_ opportunities I gave Dralthar to spill the beans. Just sayin'.


	227. Not What I Expected, but Awesome Regardless: Evening of Day 139

Call me a 'once bitten, twice shy' sort of gal, but I didn't expect the first day, post-courtship kickoff, to be spent like this. First we rolled out of bed and scrounged up breakfast. Then we hiked up to the top of the rise our little lovenest is under. I thought the landscape might be familiar to him, but he said he'd never seen it before 'everything changed.' So we were both looking across Nagrand with semi-virginal eyes. From our vantage point, we could just make out Oshu'gun in the distance, and by triangulating off that point of reference and the Throne of the Elements in the opposite direction, I think we might have been in the area of Halaa, or near enough, from an old!Nagrand perspective. Not on top of it, though. There's obviously a stronghold of Iron Horde holdouts on the spot, and after my last run-in with their Warsong lackeys, I have no desire to make a close-up comparison.

We talked. Dralthar told me about Tiktak, who was chasing after a windroc with Zugzug. I anticipated, and was not disappointed, violent butchery if they managed to catch it. Which they did. Tiktak is a rare black scorpid Dralthar ran across in Durotar when Orgrimmar was being built the first time. Most of them blend in with the reddish sand, so a black one stands out. When Dralthar found him, he was wounded and staggering around. Dralthar being the sensitive, kind-hearted soul that he is, he tamed Tiktak and healed him up, and they've been best pals ever since.

Later on, we moseyed on down to the river and I showed him some of the little 'tricks' Rak'jin taught me for catching the fat sleepers. You basically bait a hook with something sweet, like a donut, and cast your line. Those lazy bastards perk right up.

I think we've just been fishing and talking for a couple of hours now. He has made me laugh almost hard enough to pee my pants about seventy five times. And we've talked about serious things, too. Like where we'll settle after this mess winds down. We're in agreement that it's going to be Orgrimmar; we both love that place for various reasons. He sheepishly brought up kids, because he's always wanted a child. I told him I'm not sure if I'm ready for that, and he backed right off. But I think the topic will come up again, because I'm not as adverse to the idea as I used to be. Is it because of him, and his place in my life now?

Then we talked about the really big elephant in the room - who's going to declare us lifemates? He has no clan that he knows of, and therefore no chieftain. But he said that all things being equal, the chieftain he would claim is Thrall, so that's who he wants to make the declaration. I couldn't agree more.

I can't believe the sun is going down already. In the last twenty four hours, Dralthar has been a lover and a friend to me. Those weird worries about whether I was making the right decision just don't have a foothold, and are fading with every hour that we're together. I love him. I haven't been able to say it out loud yet, because of worries and fears and memories, but I can say it now. I love him. _I love him._ **_I love him._**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Seriously, the fat sleeper fishing lure icon looks exactly like a donut on a hook. With chocolate frosting. Yum. :D


	228. Blast From the Past, Even Later on Day 139

It was getting dark fast, so we headed for the closest outpost to where we were fishing, a place called Riverside. I swear, I was just trying to avoid a night-time repeat of the other day's run-in, when something ten times more heart-wrenching greeted us at the post.

There are an adorable little boy and girl here, just cute as the dickens, and probably only about nine or ten years old each. Ku helped them find each other again recently; evidently, the little girl's parents were killed and she was left stranded. The boy begged Ku to track her down, because she's his girlfriend.

I lost my shit entirely; he's Mankrik. Oh god, I fell completely apart. I had to hug him hard, which freaked him out. He's at that age where hugs from strange women give him the willies. And the little girl was all smiles: Olgra, alive and by his side. A Blood Elf stationed there took me aside after my meltdown and told me not to say anything to the mournful, genocidal, our-timeline-Mankrik should I run across him in the Barrens, because he's specifically not allowed to come to this version of Draenor. If he knew she was here, even as a child, he'd lose his mind the rest of the way.

After Dralthar led me away, I told him that pre-Cataclysm, I'd run across Mankrik's burned out house, and seen his dead wife, numerous times. I told him that, at Mankrik's request and in his honor ever after, I killed a shit-ton of quillboar. Seeing him as a boy, boasting dire consequences if anything happens to his girlfriend, and knowing just how dire it will get if he loses her, I wanted to just tell wee little Mankrik to STAY HERE. Don't come to Azeroth. Keep her close, keep her safe. You can't handle it, man; _trust me_. But I can't say a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This was almost exactly my reaction when I found Mankrik at Riverside Post. The Zoop lost total control of her shit and cried for ten minutes. There are many familiar figures from the past who show up in alternate!Draenor, but this one kicked my feels super hard. :(


	229. The Beleaguered Fan Receives Another Handful on Day 140

I think it would be easier to count on both hands the number of days when shit _wasn't_ hitting the fan, as opposed to when it was, since I came to Azeroth. Dralthar and I returned to Wor'var with stars in our eyes and naughty thoughts on our minds to find the troops arriving en masse from all corners of Draenor. Mage portals were standing open and rylaks were swooping in. Ku was directing traffic, Thrall was conferring with his dad while his mom and wife were poring over maps, and the main parade ground was choked with soldiers of all Horde races. No sooner were we waved in than the whole post went on lockdown.

Zaggron and the boys are still here. Zaggron and Rak'jin are keeping us company in the inn, while Trukk and Rala line up outside. Needless to say, Kroxxar's little issues aren't high on anyone's priority list right now, so he's still in the brig waiting for someone to give a crap. I caught a glimpse of Grogax in with the frontline fighters, and I swear I saw a shock of bright red Troll hair, so I think Roznik's in the party, too.

Gishka just left us a few minutes ago so she could join the reserves. Her man, Lugrum, received a big brother lecture about keeping her out of trouble, to which he replied that she could burn the nuts off a windroc from a mile away, so don't worry about her. Man, I love this guy.

The reason for the mobilization is that the Powers That Be declared the Warsong opposition to be sufficiently weakened to the point where moving against Garrosh the Almighty Pinhead directly has a better than average chance of succeeding.

Now we wait, stage one. Any minute now, the army will be ready to go. They're stamping their feet, banging their weapons, and sometimes bellowing war whoops out there. I can hear Thazz'ril giving someone what for about standing at attention. Dralthar's already pacing anxiously; maybe little sis does her own thing most of the time, but when big bro has to personally see her off and knows exactly what she's doing and what could happen to her, he has a hard time with personal shit management. I'm readying the boob pillow in case he needs to calm down.


	230. Later on Day 140: Still No Word from the Front

I'm more nervous than I thought I'd be. Last time a major battle was going on, I was pacing and anxious because my man was in the thick of it and I was worried sick. This time around, my man is keeping himself occupied in the stables where the worst thing that can happen to him is a nasty bite from a foul-tempered wolf. But I'm still freaking out. I think it's because now, I have friends on the front line. Not just Roznik, who still warrants worry for his welfare. I'm thinking about Grogax, and if anything happens to him, what will I tell Jinqies? I was supposed to keep an eye on him. And Trukk - I don't even know what his girlfriend's name is. It's not a topic he likes to trot out, so I'm guessing she's not an Orc. Maybe not outside the faction or he'd be just as secretive about it as Kroxxar, but definitely not your standard issue girlfriend.

Since Rak'jin can't go anywhere until the battle's resolved, he's sitting here on the little pier fishing with me. Okay, I'm not really fishing so much as writing. Regardless, the day is almost over and we haven't heard a peep from the army yet. Thazz'ril keeps stopping on his rounds to look southward for a minute or two before moving on. Like he expects to see smoke signals or something. I can't see a damn thing, except the Ogre gladiator arena a quarter mile away.

What if we underestimated Garrosh again? What if he's got, I don't know, a gigantic monster on a leash in his hut? Or maybe Gul'dan? Can we be really lucky and nail him and his dad at the same time? I think that would cripple what's left of the Iron Horde, unless the smarmy used car salesman with the demon fetish is in charge now.


	231. At a Loss in the Wee Hours of Day 140

I don't know how to feel. It's like a weight has been lifted, but another has settled in its place. Thrall looks like he feels the same way. Everyone in Wor'var seems unsure how to proceed at this point.

The army did what it needed to do; the Warsong presence in Nagrand was crippled. Trukk and Grogax came back intact; between the two of them, I got a full account of the battle. Probably more details than I ever really wanted to know. Kuadanath's already on her way back to the garrison with her next set of orders, which involve returning to the jungle that Hellfire Peninsula might have been if Ner'zhul didn't suck balls.

What's got everyone wrong-footed is the new fixture sitting on the hill overlooking Skysong Lake, where most of us still see Garadar's main building if we squint really hard.

According to Trukk, Ku and Durotan were barely holding their own against Garrosh in a personal, 'I can whip you both with one hand tied behind my back' sort of punch-up while his Warsong group cheered from the sidelines. Garrosh knocked Durotan out of the fight, then nearly killed Ku before Thrall finally reached the area and challenged Garrosh to _mak'gora_. It was probably the only thing he could think of to stop that big tool from finishing Ku off. Garrosh couldn't very well sneer at that challenge, so the fight stopped, the battle stopped, and everyone made their way down to the place with the most irony in all of Nagrand. Squinting again, you can almost see where Thrall first showed Garrosh a vision of his father's redemption, right there where they kicked each other's asses an hour or so ago.

Everyone here in Wor'var was assembled to witness the fight, because it was a matter of honor. Dralthar and I were standing shoulder-to-shoulder with sweaty, bloody assholes from the Warsong clan. All of our troops looked like hell, not even pausing to wash up a bit before reporting to the battle site. There were also about a hundred or so Alliance soldiers, an assload of Draenei, and Khadgar and Sharis looking grim next to Kuadanath, Durotan, Draka, and Aggra. I didn't realize it was a joint effort. The right of fisticuffs fell squarely, and appropriately, on Thrall's shoulders alone, though.

It was painful to watch. At first, I was all smug that Garrosh was finally getting called on a carpet he couldn't make a quick getaway on. Then I started to get worried, because it was clear that when it comes to the smackdown, Garrosh is the master. However, Thrall is no slouch in the beat-your-ass department, either, and held his own pretty well until it was apparent that muscle alone wasn't going to do the job. That's when the stormclouds formed overhead.

Thrall called a huge fist of earth from the ground to hold Garrosh, then brought a lightning strike down to finish him. It was one of those displays of power that leave you awed, frightened, breathless, relieved... And I wish like crazy, triumphant as well. But I heard what they said to each other during the fight, and now I'm just not sure how I feel. I'll just bet Thrall saved his big can of whoop-ass until after Garrosh had a chance to speak, because I swear, he could've unleashed the fury a hell of a lot earlier if he'd wanted to.

Garrosh said he did everything for the Horde, and accused Thrall of leaving him to pick up his pieces. He said that Thrall made him what he was. I've been mulling over his words far more than I thought I would. They just won't fade, and I keep poking at them like a toothache. By the look of him where he's sitting with his wife and parents looking defeated, I can tell Thrall can't get it out of his mind, either.

Did he give Garrosh a 'gift' of power the guy wasn't ready for, or able to handle? I think so. I think, in the end, Garrosh is - _was_ \- more like his father than even Thrall realized. I remember when I pointed that out to Thrall back in Sen'jin, and he seemed surprised. Like, his memory of Grom was of the redemptive variety, not the power-hungry, war-mongering asshole he was before Thrall met him. Even still, did he forget when Grom embraced that power again? I don't think Thrall wanted to remember. I don't think he wanted to believe that Garrosh could be just as unstable as his father. I keep going over and over in my mind, every meeting I had with him, every word he said, everything I know about him. What he was like in Northrend, how he was in old!Nagrand at the very beginning. Garrosh thought he should be ashamed of his family name until Thrall showed him why he shouldn't. He must have put Thrall in the substitute 'dad' position, looking to him as a mentor and guide. 'You knew my father, you admired him, you've shown me that he was worthy. I want you to feel the same way about me.' But he couldn't seem to earn it for himself.

'You left me to pick up your pieces,' he said. Thrall gave him the reins, then ran off to save the world. It's only in hindsight that maybe he thinks he should've stuck around a bit longer to guide Garrosh and advise him, because obviously, Garrosh doesn't credit non-Orcs with having a lick of sense or he wouldn't have dismissed or alienated the other leaders so casually. Why he didn't listen to Eitrigg and Saurfang, two old-timers who are better suited to guide him in 'the old ways' than anyone, is a mystery to me. But then, they aren't Thrall. And I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't mince words whenever the opportunity to mention 'dear old dad' came up.

Aggra's holding Thrall's hand and talking to him. I wish I could find a legitimate excuse to join them, but this has 'private family time' written all over it. So I'm huddled next to Dralthar in his shelter, in his arms. He can't sleep any more than I can, and is just laying there, staring at nothing. Zugzug, Soka, and Tiktak are clustered in a heap at one end, looking mournful. Well, I'm guessing Tiktak is mournful; hard to tell on a scorpid. There aren't any parties or celebrations going on; all of Wor'var is quiet.


	232. The Happiest and Saddest Day of My Life is Number 141

Clearly, I don't have the kind of courage Dralthar was born with, because I just stood meekly behind him when he approached Thrall this morning about the mate declaration. Granted, my man was humble, subdued, and a bit awkward about it; he didn't chest-bump his way into a conversation with Thrall, who is still reeling from last night. I almost cried, though, because it looked like Thrall was going to. Not because he's got some kind of obsession with seeing me and Dralthar bumping uglies or anything, but because in spite of everything that's happened, whatever bad decisions he's made or people he's hurt, he's still respected enough by at least _this_ faithful Horde citizen to be called Chieftain, with all the peace-time duties that go with it.

I've never attended a wedding that was organized and executed so quickly. In less than an hour, everyone in Wor'var was gathered in the parade grounds, standing at attention with their eyes on us. And I mean everyone; the soldiers hadn't returned to the garrison yet. I could see Roznik in the crowd, and the look of confusion on his face. As soon as Thrall began to speak, I realized that nobody told Roznik that his ex-girlfriend was dating someone.

I want to focus on that moment of joy when Dralthar took my hand and looked at me with so much love, my own heart nearly burst. I really do. I want today to be indelibly printed on the Hallmark card of my soul as the fulfillment of Sayge's fortune that day at the Darkmoon Faire. I want to remember the hugs from Gishka, the grins from Trukk and Zaggron, the lewd wedding night predictions from Rak'jin. But I keep seeing Roznik's look of shock, the pain in his eyes, and his hasty departure from the post as soon as the 'at ease' was called and the soldiers relaxed. I hurt him enough when I told him it was over, then I hauled off and kicked him in the jimmies with all my might today. In front of everyone. Granted, he called me a whore and belted me in front of the same people, but I'm supposed to be the mature one here. I'm supposed to take the high road. Why didn't I tell him the truth? Did I think I was sparing his delicate feelings by not mentioning Dralthar before? Whatever I was protecting then, I sure tore apart now. But what's done is done. Roznik needs to pull on his big-boy pants and get over it.

Which I can't muster any smugness over. He was my lover for months. I pined for him when we were apart. I cared - and _still_ care - for him. Part of me wants to fix this. Talk to him about it. Tell him it was sudden; not something I was working on in secret while he was away. Anything to wipe that look of betrayal off his face.

At least I have the option of mending that fence, I suppose. Thrall will carry unresolved guilt and unanswered questions with him for the rest of his life.


	233. Killing Time on Day 142

Dralthar is the most understanding husband ever. He also notices details I didn't think he would've picked up, under the circumstances. I couldn't do more than cuddle with him last night, after the whole Roznik thing. And it's not like there _was_ a thing, either. I just saw that look, and a lifetime of nurturing the guilt response did the rest.

As if my morning wasn't already morning-after-glow-free, Kroxxar was transported back to the garrison, presumably for a stern lecture from Kuadanath, Vol'jin, god, and everyone. And I still don't know what his damn girlfriend's name is! Though I suppose it might be 'bek' something, since he muttered that word when he groped me in his sleep a while back. Bekka, maybe? Anyway, I hope he isn't in really big trouble. I went on an exploration mission of the garrison a few weeks back, and found the jail cells under the barracks. Not a happy place.

He didn't go alone, though. Zaggron, Trukk, Rak'jin, and Rala have all taken off for the garrison, too. I got a big hug from Zaggron before he left, along with the smirking recommendation to occasionally let Dralthar on top now and then. Just to give him the illusion that he's got some authority in the relationship. Very funny, old man.

Granted, it's just the first day, post-Garrosh-defeat, but I'm already getting a different vibe off the troops here. They've shaken off the gloom of Garrosh's death, and it's back to business. But with the Warsong threat nearly wiped off the map, we're mostly just holding position here. There are questions on people's minds that got a lot of play over breakfast this morning: what does this mean for us? How much longer will we be here? Is this assignment forever, or just until the locals can take over, then we can go home? Maybe this is Draenor as a lot of the old-timers remember it, but it's a foreign land to these younger Orcs. And completely off the map for the rest of the Horde.

Then again, Gul'dan's still at large. Some of the Orcs with greying hair were really pissed not to be called back to the garrison, because the understanding is that now we're moving against the decrepit old bastard. Nobody saw Grom Hellscream during the battle yesterday, so it's assumed he's nestled up snug in Gul'dan's jock strap, safe and warm. Not for long, if the grim looks around the table were any indication.

Meanwhile, I should be paying better attention to my bobber. I've got a whole sack of donuts from the mess hall to run through. Come dinner time, there will be more fat sleeper cakes than this outpost can handle.


	234. Pondering the Institution of Marriage in the Early Hours of Day 143

I had to take a step back for a second. Dralthar is my _husband._ I can't even get my head around that. One minute he was a grumpy bastard covered in elephant shit, then he was a strangely supportive friend covered in wolf shit, and now... Well, he's still covered in shit, but he cleans up really good. Like, before he comes 'home' to our little shelter/love shack, he's out in the makeshift showers scrubbing off.

Beside the point. The point is, it's been three weeks since he dropped the bomb on me. To be fair, we spent a lot of time together, talking and getting to know each other. I was with Roznik for a hell of a lot longer, and don't know him half as well. Less than half, actually. I think it's also fair to say that, when I'm not sitting here chewing my nails and worrying that my love life looks like a cheap reality show, I'm relaxed with Dralthar. Last night he was exhausted from having to wrestle some of those really big wolves from west of the river into submission. You could stick a damned Ogre on their backs and they'd carry it as easily as one of the frostwolves carries an Orc. Big bastards, and extremely pissy. When he saw me there on our furs, playing with Soka, he got this tired, happy smile on his face, and curled his big body around us so he could watch and eventually pass out completely. And I was totally okay with that. In fact, I shooed the pup off to the corner and snuggled up against him. He's warm and I feel completely safe with him. Safe in so many ways...

Like the 'indiscretions' of my past are just events we can laugh about, not weapons he'll whip out later. Like he'd be right here with me whether I'm part of the Horde or not. And I don't get 'trophy wife' vibes off him, either. He's not waving me around as his big conquest. 'Look, I bagged a human!'

I found his little rag doll yesterday, the one Gishka told me about. Actually, Soka found it, and would have taught it the meaning of pain with her little puppy teeth if I hadn't stepped in. I just stared at that doll, imagining what it must have been like in the camp for a little kid. All I know is Thrall's story, and the bits and pieces Dralthar and a handful of others were willing to divulge. What I can piece together is that there was a lot of diversity between those camps. Some would have put the Nazis to shame, while others weren't all that bad. How each Orc views the Alliance stems directly from the sort of camp they were assigned to.

For many of the Orcs I talked to, they didn't truly hate humans when they invaded. There was no personal dislike, no sense of 'you wronged me, bitch, you gonna pay.' Then they spent years in those camps. It must have taken a lot of strength for the Orcs to let go of the anger, at least as much as it took for the Draenei on Azeroth - Draenei like Nadezda - to stand in the same room with Orcs again. And we all know how hard it is for the Alliance as a whole to be civil with almost anyone in the Horde. Not an easy thing. A lot of distrust going on.

Yet here we are, Dralthar and I, married. Fentulk and his lady, married. Sure, I'll go ahead and assume that Nadezda and Harag are married. What the hell. If they're not now, they will be soon. That's the kind of optimism I've got going on. Or I just want to see that sly little shit happy for once. Hell, I just want to see him _alive,_ let's be honest.

I guess I'm rambling now. Trying to explain the unexplainable, justify what doesn't need justification. I love him, bottom line. He's the kind of guy who fits easily into both the husband and friend positions. I can make smokin' hot love with him one minute, then confess weird shit to him the next, like yesterday when I told some of the peons swimming in the lake that the fish pee in there. They shot out of that water so damn fast... God, he and I laughed so hard! Then we made love again, just for the feel of it, because we were both still snickering about panic-stricken peons covered in fish piss. Which he whispered in my ear a few times just to set me off. I don't think there's ever been a time in my life when I've had a man up to the hilt inside me, and both of us were plagued with frequent explosions of snorts and giggles from start to finish. Nor do I think I've ever had such a massive orgasm while laughing my ass off.

Dammit, I love him so much. No, it wasn't too fast, too soon, or too rushed. I met him just at the right time. All the pieces fell into place exactly the way they were supposed to. I don't really need to feel guilty about Roznik either, because honestly, if Roz hadn't been in my life, I don't think fate would have put me in Dralthar's path. Not as easily, anyway. But I'm glad she did, even if Roz is suffering now. I'll deal with him later; right now, I have a husband to wake up so we can grab breakfast before we part ways for work. A couple rounds of morning sex have knocked him out again. Thank god, he doesn't snore even half as loud as Zaggron. I think I'll keep him.


	235. Question for Day 143: What Do You Say to the Chuck Norris of Azeroth?

Once again, someone had to run my mail to me because I didn't think for a second anyone would write me a letter. Honestly, the one person I would expect messages from is right here. Anyone else probably doesn't have anything nice to say at this point. I was kind of surprised that it was from Kuadanath, further floored when I read it.

_Karie,_   
_I hope my note finds you well. As you are no doubt aware, our campaign against the Iron Horde has evolved into one against Gul'dan and the Legion. To that end, many veterans of past engagements with the Legion have responded to the Warchief's call and are now reporting to the new base in Tanaan Jungle. You may recall me mentioning that High Overlord Saurfang expressed an interest in meeting you. It is my honor to inform you that he will be passing through the garrison tomorrow. If your duties may be set aside for a day, could you return to the garrison to meet with him?_

_I believe it would answer his concerns regarding your loyalty to the Horde if your full history were revealed. With your permission, I will debrief him prior to the meeting._

As you can imagine, I fired off a 'hell yeah' response right away. Shit, you can tell him my bra size, Ku. Whatever you want.

The one 'holy crap' in the message is the part about the Legion. I thought we were demon-free in this world, but apparently not. I guess I don't get out much. But with Gul'dan involved, how could the Legion _not_ show up? That little shit-stain...

Regardless, I'm beside myself here. Saurfang. _The_ Saurfang. I don't even know what I'd say, you know? There are some characters in the game who achieved legendary status, and that seems to have been a reflection of the reality here. I told Grogax, because he was handy, having delivered my mail, and he was clearly jealous. Like not just anybody gets a sit-down with the Big Guy. I'm wondering if Eitrigg might have mentioned me, or if my membership in the Horde is just that noteworthy. I suppose it must be - human that I am, we're not common sights in Horde territory.

Oh god, I can't wait to tell Dralthar! He'll be thrilled. And likely remind me not to embarrass myself or cause the kind of trouble that results in joining Kroxxar in the brig. Such a poop.


End file.
